


Crazy Love - AU Dean Winchester

by PrettyLittleWriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Supernatural AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-02-22 14:53:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13169262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyLittleWriter/pseuds/PrettyLittleWriter
Summary: You receive a random text from a number you don't recognize. What happens when you decide to text back?





	1. Chapter 1

I pulled my car into my reserved spot and put it in park. Pulling my keys from the ignition, I climbed out and shoved my phone in my back pocket and reached in to grab my purse and my work bag with my computer, tugging them from the car and slung them all over my shoulder. With the hand that wasn’t holding my keys, I scooped up a bag of groceries before slamming the door shut with my hip. I walked through the quiet parking garage over to the elevator. I awkwardly hit the UP button with the back of my hand, struggling not to drop the paper bag of food I’d just purchased. I felt my phone buzz in my back pocket as the elevator doors slid opened and I stepped inside. I hit the button for the 21st floor with my elbow. A less lazy person would have made two trips, but I just wasn’t feeling up to it. The light on the sensor turned from red to green and the doors slid shut, the elevator knowing exactly which floor to take me to without me even having to press a button.

The doors slid opened on the my floor of the condo building where I lived. I walked down the hall, stopping outside my door. My phone buzzed again in my pocket, reminding me I had an unread message waiting for me. I finally let all my bags slide to the floor so that I could unlock my door. Kicking it opened, I dragged all my belongings inside, locking the door behind me.

I hurried to place the grocery bag on my counter. I fished my phone from my pocket to see who had texted me and saw one new message from a number I had never seen before.

 

**\--Hey babe what time tonight?**

I frowned at my phone, trying to figure out whose number this was. I had plans to meet some friends tonight, but I didn’t recognize this area code. I quickly typed back a response and set my phone down. 

_ -Who is this? _

**\--It's Dean**

I definitely didn’t have plans or even know anyone named Dean.

_ -I think you have the wrong number _

Setting down the phone and moving to the bag of groceries, I began unpacking them and putting them away. I paused when I heard my phone buzz again.

**\--Nah. You’re the pretty waitress from the diner. I am the guy with the slice of pie, extra ice cream? Courtney, right?**

_ -Nope. Definitely not Courtney. Sorry.  _

**\--Come on. We had plans tonight!**

_ -Sorry looks like Courtney gave you the wrong number.  _

**\--Sweetheart seriously. What time?**

I rolled my eyes at the word “sweetheart”. This Dean character seemed pretty cocky for a dude that had just been given old bait and switch.

_ -Dean, sweetheart. Seriously. You have the wrong number. _

**\--Son of a bitch.**

I laughed out loud as I responded.

_ -Sorry. Good luck Dean! _

Still chuckling over crazy Dean and Courtney, I gathered up my laptop bag and purse from where I’d dumped them by the door, setting them by the couch and headed to my bedroom to get changed out of my work clothes.

I flipped the switch in my bedroom and paused for a moment, gazing out the floor to ceiling windows over the back bay of Boston. It was dark and the lights from the boats in the harbor, the restaurants and other high rise buildings twinkled around me. Boston at night was only surpassed by Boston during the day. I headed for my large walk in closets and stripped off work clothes and pulled on a pair of jeans, a light sweater and a pair of brown leather riding boots. It was early April in New England and the weather was just starting to warm up. I was happy to feel Spring in the air, but even more excited for Summer. Freshening up my make-up, I headed back out towards the North End where I had plans to meet some friends for a drink.

As usual, I was the last to arrive and I joined the group at the bar.

“Hi, sorry, sorry,” I said, hugging my good friend Tara. “Court was crazy today.”

“Hashtag, lawyer problems,” she laughed, handing me a drink. I sipped it gratefully and caught up with everyone, recapping our week and talking about upcoming weekend plans.

“Gavin is beyond excited for the Red Sox game tomorrow,” Tara gushed. “He cannot believe you got us box seats for opening day.”

“The firm keeps has a bunch of season tickets,” I said with a shrug. “I’m glad they can be put to good use.”

“You sure you don’t want to come? Can you score one extra ticket?” Tara asked.

“No, you guys have fun,” I urged. “I can’t always be the third wheel.”

“You’re not the third wheel,” Gavin said, turning away from the others and joining our conversation. “You’re our friend.” As I reached out and gave his arm a squeeze, I felt my phone buzz again in my back pocket. I pulled it out and saw that same number from earlier. Dean. Shaking my head I opened the text. 

**\--You should have seen the amount of pie I had to eat and all I got was a fake number.**

With a giggle, I shook my head and typed back a response.

_ -Was it at least good pie? _

**\--No!**

_ -Rhubarb? _

**\--Yes! How did you know?**

“Who are you texting with that smile on your face?” Tara asked, trying to sneak a peek at my phone.

“Some guy accidently texted me earlier,” I explained. “He’s kind of funny. He was trying to pick up a waitress and she gave him a bogus number.”

“Your number?” Tara asked. I nodded while I tapped out my reply.

_ -Worst. Pie. Ever. I’m a key lime girl myself.  _

I slid my phone back into my purse and returned my attention to my drink and my friends. It wasn’t until later when I’d paid my tab and caught a cab home that I thought to check my phone for a response for Dean. 

**\--Ah ha! So you're a girl!**

I giggled, feeling more than a little buzzed as I responded.

_ -Did I not mention that? _

Almost immediately, the tiny ellipsis bubble popped up showing he was writing back.

**\--No you did not. I was imagining a middle aged dude with male pattern baldness.**

_ -Haha. Sorry to disappoint.  _

**\--I got over Courtney, I will get over that too**

_ -Over Courtney already? That was quick.  _

**\--Yeah. Well I move fast.**

_ -Apparently. _

**\--You got a name?**

_ -Yup. _

**\--You gonna tell me?**

_ -Nope! _

**\--No fair. You know my name!**

_ -Good-bye Dean _

 

I didn’t think about Dean again until a few days later when, as I was walking through the bakery section of my grocery store I spotted a display of freshly baked rhubarb pies. I laughed aloud and without thinking, I fished my phone out of my purse and snapped a picture, quickly sending it off to him.

 

**\--Ew.**

_ -Lol.  _

**\--Lol? Are you 13? Am I going to jail?**

_ -I’m 29 _

**\--That’s what they all say**

 

And then, a few days later, a random text popped up from him while I was having lunch with Tara.

**\--You're still in my phone as Courtney.**

_ -What?! _

**\--Well you won't tell me your name.**

_ -Change it to “Not Courtney.” _

“There is that strange smile again,” Tara said, giving me an odd look. “Is it that wrong number guy?”

“Yeah,” I admitted, feeling strange. “We’ve been sending each other random texts.” I tried explaining the rhubarb pie exchange to her and she just shook her head.

“You are young, gorgeous, smart with an amazing job and a condo on The Warf. You could literally have any guy you want, why are you texting a stranger pictures of pies?”

“It’s just texting,” I scowled. “I’m not looking for a relationship with the dude. I’m happy with my life just how it is.”

“You need to let me set you up,” she begged. “There is this guy at work, Paul, he is so nice and sweet and not too bad to look at, I might add.”

“I don’t need to be set up, Tee,” I sighed. “Listen, I have to run. I have that huge presentation to the Board of Directors at 3:00 today and I have to prepare.” I hugged Tara and headed back to the office. As I walked, I couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. I had been single for almost a year. My last relationship had not ended well and I just didn’t feel ready to get back into the dating scene. I liked my life, I liked focusing on my work and I usually liked hanging out with my friends. 

Luckily, my work did take up most of my time. I had excelled at law school, graduating at the top of my class. I’d been offered an amazing job right out of school and was currently working for a prestigious Merger and Acquisitions law firm right Boston. I worked my butt off but loved what I did. Most days it was enough to keep my mind off of my failing love life but lunch with Tara had brought the fact that I was alone back to the forefront of my thoughts.

From there, my day didn’t get much better. I left my presentation feeling like I’d missed the mark somehow and that the board wasn’t that interested in what I was pitching to them.

I returned to my office and buried my disappointment with my work. When I finally had enough of shuffling papers around my desk, I realized it was dark out and the office was all but empty. I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my eyes. My phone jingled quietly from under a pile of papers and I rummaged around until I found it. I was surprised to see a text from Dean.

 

**\--Did you know there are such things as Key Lime Martinis??**

I thought about my conversation with Tara earlier and with an air of defiance, I typed out my response.

_ -Duh. Are you drinking one now? _

**\--No. Some chick at the end of the bar ordered one. Is it you?**

_ -No. I wish it was. I really could use a drink right now. _

**\--Rough day?**

_ -Terrible day.  _

**\--What happened?**

_ -I had this big presentation. I thought it was solid, but I don’t think it went well.  _

_ -I just don’t have a good feeling about it. It’s bumming me out. _

**\--Why don’t you think it went well?**

_ -I just felt like they weren’t impressed. I think my proposals were good, but I am not sure it was what they were looking for. _

**\--What’s done is done. Try not to overthink it. Just wait and see what happens.**

**\--If it was meant to be, it will be.**

_ -Dean Winchester: lover of pies, pursuer of waitress … believer in fate? _

_  
_ **\--What else are you going to do? Sometimes you just have to leave it up to fate.**

_ -I guess you’re right. _

**\--Sweetheart, I am always right.**

_ -You were wrong about Courtney. _

**\--Aww that’s just mean.**

_ -Hahaha sorry. You’re right. Thank you. I do feel a bit better. _

And I did feel better. Chewing my lip, I tapped on the string of numbers at the top of the text message and save the number as “Dean” in my contacts.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, when Dean texted me, seeing his name pop up on my screen actually made me grin.

**\--Better day today sweetheart?**

_ -Yes. Thank you. _

**\--Good.**

And later in the day, when the Board of Directors summoned me to their conference room and congratulated me, telling me they were taking my up on my proposal, the first person I thought to tell was him.

I sent out a message as soon as I got back to my office. 

_ -Hey, guess what? _

All day and night I waited for a response and was starting to feel more and more disappointed at the sudden radio silence. In fact, my phone didn’t buzz until I was getting ready for work the next morning.

**\--Hey. Sorry sweetheart. I was busy. Ended up working all night. What’s up?**

_ -Oh, sorry I didn't mean to bother you.  _

**\--Never a bother. What's going on?**

I smiled, excited to share my news with him.

_ -The Board accepted my proposal. I wanted you to know.  _

**\--That's amazing! Congratulations! I will drink to that tonight!**

**\--Hey, if you're free, mix up a Key Lime martini and join me. Say around 10pm your time?**

_ -My time? _

**\--Some light sleuthing has led me to believe you are in or around Boston, Eastern Standard Time.**

_ -Um. Should I be checking my locks?  _

**\--Relax. You have a 617 area code. Not exactly rocket science.**

_ -Oh. Right. Sorry.  _

**\--I have to crash but I'm looking forward to our celebratory date tonight.**

_ -Who said it was a date?! _

_ -Dean? _

_ -Deeeeeeean? _

_ -Sweet dreams.  _

 

Once I arrived at work, it decided it was time to see where Dean’s area code originated from. I entered the digits into Google and was rewarded with a location. Lawrence, Kansas. A nice, sweet midwestern guy. Could be worse, I thought.

Worked seemed to drag on that day and I found that I was looking forward to being home after work even more than usual. Promptly at 10:00pm, my phone jingled.

**\--You there honey?**

_ -Yup.  _

**\--Martini in hand?**

_ -Um. No. Glass of wine. You? _

**\--Bottle of beer, ready to toast your success!**

_ -Cheers! Thanks Dean. _

**\--Cheers, sweetheart. I’m happy for you.**

I bit my lip, an internal battle raging inside of me. I thought about how I’d felt better after I’d shared with Dean the disappointment of my presentation. I thought about how sincere his responses at been and how he’d even checked in on me the next day. However strange the circumstances that brought us into communication, I still felt that this Dean Winchester from Kansas might be worth getting to know a bit more. I took a deep breath and tapped out my next message.

_ -Do you want to play a game? _

**\--Always. Is it a drinking game?**

_ -Not really. It’s like truth or dare with no dares. It’s called ‘Ask Me Anything’. _

**\--Sounds interesting...**

_ -There are two rules. _

_ -Only one question at a time _

_ -And you have to tell the truth _

_ -Still want to play? _

**\--YES. Can I go first?**

_ -*sigh* Yes. _

**\--What is your name?**

_ -Y/N _

**\--It is a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.**

_ -OK my turn. _

**\--Ask away.**

_ -How old are you? _

**\--34**

_ -Yikes. _

**\--Do you have a boyfriend.**

_ -No _

_-Do you have a girlfriend?_  
**\--Nope. I travel too much.**

**\--What do you do for work?**

_ -I am a lawyer at a Merger and Acquisitions Firm _

**\--That sounds just so incredibly boring.**

_ -Yeah, but I’m in it for the money. What about you? _

**\--I am a bounty hunter**

_ -Like Dog The Bounty Hunter? _

**\--What?? No. Like a regular bounty hunter. Google it.**

_ -Do you have a gun? _

**\--Hey it’s my turn!**

**\--And yes of course I have a gun**

**\--Are you anti gun?**

_ -Is that your question? _

**\--Yes** .

_ -No. I am not anti-gun. You can have your gun. _

**\--Thanks.**

_ -I googled bounty hunter. Sounds almost as intense as being a merger and acquisition lawyer _ .

**\--Nah not even close.**

  
  


We played on for almost an entire hour, me typing away at my phone and laughing out loud, alone in my living room, having more fun that I could remember having in a while. I learned he and his brother had followed in their father’s footsteps and become bounty hunters, working jobs all over the country. I told him about law school and getting this great job and being the youngest lawyer on the team.

The game continued on through out the next few days. Once we got the basic questions out of the way- Where were you born? brothers or sisters? Favorite song? Favorite food? - we came up with more thoughtful questions.

_ -Worst date? _

**\--It involved a lying waitress and rhubarb pie.**

**\--Favorite fictional character from a movie**

_ -Han Motherfucking Solo _

**\--Wow, calm down there Princess Leia.**

_ -Favorite fictional character from a book (wait, can you read?) _

**\--Har Har Har. Van Helsing from Dracula.**

_ -Scary.  _

**\--And that was two questions.**

_ -It was a sub-question, it’s allowed. _

 

Then our questions became deeper, more personal. With each answer, I felt like I was getting to know this strange man on the other end of the text thread more and more. 

_ -Worst memory? _

**\--My mother dying**

_ -Fuck, dude. Sorry. _

**\--You?**

_ -Finding out I my fiance was cheating on me. _

**\--Shit.**

**\--First good memory that pops in your head**

_ -Watching my first sunrise from my new condo on the 21st floor _

_ -You? _

**\--Thinking I was getting a waitress’s number but ending up with yours instead.**

_ -Awww gee Dean, you’re making me blush. _

**\--What scares you?**

_ -Thinking I won’t ever find someone I can trust _

_ -What is your biggest fear? _

_ - _ **Something will happen to me and my brother will be alone**

  
  


_**Dean's POV** _

_ Setting his phone down beside him, Dean picked up the piece of his disassembled firearm, wiping it down and cleaning it while he waited for her response. He glanced over at his brother, hunched over his laptop, researching possible leads on their next bounty. Sam was the only person on earth he considered himself close to, yet, he'd never shared something that personal with him. He could, if he wanted to. Sam wouldn't judge him for it. He'd purse his lips, run a hand through his long hair and huff uncomfortably before telling him he really shouldn't worry about things like that. _

_ He reached for his phone again and typed out his next question for her. _

_ - _ **What is the worst purchase you ever made?**

 

_ This girl, this random chick he'd accidentally texted was pulling information out of him like a CIA operative. The most startling thing was he wanted to tell her things he'd never spoke aloud. He wanted to discharge these heavy burdens and at times it felt as if his thumbs couldn't type fast enough. Even better than spilling his own secrets was soaking up hers. To trade facts and histories and secrets with her was his new favorite past time. For each one he gave up, he gained one from her and he was slowly piecing together a puzzle that was far more intriguing and beautiful than a quick night with a fast waitress. _

_ The phone buzzed again, vibrating loudly against the table and Dean couldn’t keep the smile from his lips as he grabbed for it. _

_ From across the room, Sam struggled to keep his face impassive as he secretly watched Dean from the corner of his eye. He hadn’t seen his brother like this in a long, long time. He was used to watching Dean leave a bar with a different woman and he knew why he had stuck to one night stands the past few years. But as the text messages became more and more frequent, so did Dean’s smile. It didn’t matter who was on the other end of that phone as long as she kept give his older brother a reason to grin.  _


	3. Chapter 3

I was home one night, sitting amidst a stack of papers at my dining room table preparing for court the next day when my phone jingled quietly beside me. 

 

**\--Do you know what a selfie is?**

_ -Are you being serious? _

**\--Yes.**

**\--Wanna trade?**

_ -You want to send me a selfie? _

**\--Well, I want you to send me a selfie, but I figure in order to do that I will have to reciprocate.**

_ -Sounds fair. _

**\--Ok. I’ve been practicing. Hang on.**

**\--[PIC]**

 

I gasped aloud and something deep in my abdomen stirred. Clean cut, dirty blond hair, a wide smile, broad cheekbones, a strong jaw covered in light scruff and a warm crinkle around stunning green eyes. Could this handsome man really be Dean?

- _ Whoa. How do I know that is really you? _

_ -Take one with your finger on your nose and your left eye shut. _

**\--Where is the trust?**

**\--Please hold.**

**\--[PIC]**

 

I giggled aloud at this gorgeous man making such a silly face for me. I bit my lip and shook my head. Things just got a lot more interesting.

 

_ -Dean, why didn’t you tell me you were hot? _

**\--I thought I did? It's usually the first thing I tell a woman. Anyway, thank you. But it’s your turn.**

**\--But take one wearing only a pair of black pumps and eating a jelly donut so I know it’s you.**

I laughed again and reached up, pulling the pen that had held my hair twisted back from my face out of my bun and shook out my strands, combing my fingers through them and trying to tame it best I could. I gave a few looks from a few different angles and deciding this as as good as it was gonna get, I snapped a photo.

_ -{PIC} _

**\--Damn, baby girl**

**\--You’re gorgeous**

_ -Blushing again. _

 

It was exciting knowing what Dean looked like and after the initial picture swap, we began to pepper our text chats with pictures of ourselves or our surroundings. I was bored at work and snapped a picture of me dazing out in my desk chair. Later that same day, I sent him a shot from the wharf where my condo was, showing him the sailboats and fishing boats all lined up along the docks. In turn, he would send me pictures of the awful motel rooms he and Sam ended up in, his back up against the headboard of the bed looking disgusted and tired. One morning I woke up to a picture of him looking exhausted with view of a sunrise in the distance behind him.

 

**\--Up all night, but this desert sunrise almost makes it worth it. Almost.**

**\--PS. Sam offered to take it. He says hello.**

 

It was the first full body picture I’d seen of him. I scrutinized it, cataloging every detail. He was leaning against his car, which he’d told me was a 1967 Chevy Impala that he’d lovingly restored. With the car in the picture for scale, I could get a good idea of how tall he was. He had broad shoulders and his shirt was stretched over an equally broad chest with short sleeves that hugged his biceps. His jeans hung off his hips and covered his long, bow-legs. I swallowed hard, imagining sculpted pectorals and chiseled abs and arms that could scoop me up and carry me off to bed.

 

_**Dean's Point of View** _

_ Dean wearily put the car into park in front of the motel. It had been a long night, a lot of running, climbing fences and wrestling with their bounty in the dirt and dust. He hauled himself from the driver’s seat and watched as Sam trudged towards their room, looking as exhausted as he felt. _

_ They each took a turn in the shower, washing the sweat and grime. Dean dropped his phone on his bed as Sam exited the shower, looking forward to soaking in the hot water for a bit. _

_ Sam waited for the sound of the running water before he reached for Dean’s phone and pulled up the text thread. He’d only just managed to get his brother to spill the details on who and why he was texting so much, but this only served to heighten Sam's curiosity. _

_ Feeling more than a little guilty, Sam scrolled back through the messages and was surprised at what he’d found, although he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Two people engaged in a very real, very thoughtful, very sweet conversation. It was a side of his brother that he didn’t get to see very often and knowing that there was someone out there in the world who was allowed to experience that part of Dean made a soft, warm, almost fuzzy feeling form in Sam’s chest. He stretched out on the bed and pulled the scratchy motel blankets up around his neck. _

_ Several minutes later Dean appeared from the bathroom in a cloud of steam and headed right for his bed, flopping down on the pillow and not even bothering with blankets.  _

_ “Night,” Sam said, even though the sun was already pretty high in the sky. Dean grunted a response. He was just about dozing off when he heard his name being called.  _

_ “Huh?” he groaned. _

_ “You should meet her,” Sam replied. _

_ “What?” _

_ “You should meet up with Y/N,”  he repeated.  _

_ “Sam,” Dean warned his brother. “Just go to sleep.” _

_ “Look, all I’m saying is-” _

_ “Drop it, alright?” Dean huffed out. “Just… drop it.” With a sigh, Sam rolled over and Dean closed his eyes, tired, but now unable to sleep as thoughts of what it would be like to be with her in person filled his head. _


	4. Chapter 4

Waking up to texts from Dean was my favorite way to start my day. As soon as I could pull myself from my bed, the first thing I would do is check my phone. If there were no new texts I’d send him one so he could have something nice to wake up to. 

At my office, most of our business was conducted right on our iPhones, so it wasn’t uncommon for people to be walking down the hall, tapping out texts or emails or reading a briefing update in a meeting. I was used to being attached to my phone. But now, every time my phone buzzed, my heart would leap with excitement at the possibility it was a text from Dean. 

 

**\--You free tonight? 8pm your time?**

_ -Yes. _

**\--Join me for a drink?**

_ -Absolutely. I have been thinking up some good questions. _

**\--Have them locked and loaded. See you at 8 baby.**

 

It was now June and sometimes hard to believe that I’d been texting with Dean for over a month. I tried not to think about how happy it made me or that I was sharing secrets with a complete stranger. I tried not to notice how bummed out I got when it took Dean longer than usual to reply or when too many hours would pass without hearing from him. I tried not to rush home on the nights we had plans to share a drink together, thousands of miles apart. I tried to act like nothing had changed for me.

Getting ready for a text date with Dean meant having a chilled bottle of chardonnay and a clean glass on the end table next to my couch. I would change into comfortable clothes, get my blankets ready and sit and watch TV or catch up on work until he texted. When the first text arrived, I’d type out a quick reply, letting him know I was there and ready to hang out. Then, I’d pour myself a healthy glass of wine and settle in.

I had gone through the ritual of preparing that night, trying not to watch as the clock drew closer to 8:00. I was just about to flip on the TV when something strange happened.

My phone began to ring. 

I picked it up and gazed at the screen and realized Dean was calling me instead of texting me. Excited and nervous butterflies began to stir in my belly as a slow grin crept across my lips. I slid my thumb across the screen and answered.

“What are you doing?” I giggled, suddenly feeling giddy.

“Trying something different tonight,” he replied and I was struck by how deep his voice was. I suddenly felt as if my condo was 10 degrees warmer.

“Why though? We had a good thing going there with the texting and the selfies...”

“I know, but I think I’m ready to take this to the next level,” he said and I could hear his smile as he spoke. It was contagious.

“Phone sex?” I guessed, grinning.

“How’d you know?” he gasped, feigning astonishment.

“I hope you are kidding,” I groaned, now nervously chewing on the inside of my cheek.

“Well, eventually, I mean, You have to sort of ease into these things,” he replied, his already deep voice taking on an ever lower grind.

“You have a sexy telephone voice,” I told him.

“So do you, sweetheart,” he said, making my stomach flip flop. He’d used the nickname a lot when we texted, but hearing him speak it was almost enough to make my pulse quicken. I wondered if he could hear it through the phone.

“So… Hi,” I said, trying to reset my brain. 

“Hi,” he laughed. “How are you?”

“Um, nervous, a little self conscious, but other than that, fine,” 

“What do you have to be nervous about? We talk all day everyday,” he pointed out.

“I know, I know, I just have to get used to this. Hearing your voice, it makes you seem more real,” I said, suddenly hyper aware that there was a living, breathing man on the other end of the phone.

“Calm down, baby, I take my pants off one leg at a time, just like every other guy,” he joked, making me laugh.

“I think you’ve got that backwards,” I sighed, shaking my head and marveling at how quickly he could put me at ease. With the tension broken, I settled back down on the couch and reached for my wine.

“Who’s turn is it?” he asked and I heard him take a sip of his beer.

“Ummmm,” I hummed as I tried to recall. “Yours.”

“Fantastic. Ok. Here it is: underwear preference?”

“On me? Or on a guy.”

“On you,” he laughed.

“Oh Lord.. Well, I guess I’d have to say....none,” I answered, squeezing my eyes shut against the embarrassing fact I’d just admitted. This was so much easier via text message.

“None?” he repeated.

“Yup. My turn,” I said, hurrying along.

“No, no, no. I have a sub-question,” he interjected hastily. 

“Not allowed,” I said very matter of factly.

“It has, on occasion, been allowed,” he argued. “Anyway, it’s more for clarification purposes. Do you wear underwear?” 

“Where are you? Are you in a bar right now?” I asked. “Is the bartender giving you strange looks? Are people shifting away from you?”

“No, I am not at a bar, I am in my shitty motel room,” he explained. “And that is a lot of questions and not one answer.”

“No. No I don’t wear underwear. Most of the time. I don’t like it, I don’t like people seeing underwear lines under my clothes. I just prefer to go commando.” Dean’s end of the line was quiet for a few long seconds and I imagined him taking a long, long pull from his beer.

“Jesus, we’re off to a good start. Ok, your turn,” he said at last.

“What about you? Boxers or briefs?”

“Boxer briefs,” he answered. The image of muscular Dean carrying me back to bed, now clad only in boxer briefs, popped in my head and then it was my turn to drink.

We talked until both of us were yawning more than speaking. I begrudgingly offered to let Dean go, but not before we both agreed that talking was much more fun than texting.

“Sweet dreams, baby girl,” he murmured, his voice heavy with sleepy.

“You, too, Dean,” I whispered as my eyes grew heavy. I let the phone slip from my hand and pulled the blanket up around my shoulders, far too sleepy to make the short trek back to my bed.

 

*Bizzt Bizzt*

My eyes darted across my desk to my phone, a smile already tugging at my lips.

**-I liked talking to you last night**

_ \--Me too _

**-Call me tonight when you’re free?**

_ \--Will do :) _

 

Throughout the day, I kept catching myself smiling like a dope as I replayed my chat with Dean. Even the memory of the deep timbre of his voice was enough to make the butterflies stir in my belly. I was eagerly anticipating our call tonight.

Later that night, after a quick trip to the gym and an even quicker dinner, I found myself staring at my phone, wondering if now would be a good time to call. Did I appear to eager? Should I wait another hour? 

“Ugh,” I grunted aloud as I realized how foolish I was acting. I pulled up Dean’s number and tapped  **_CALL_ ** .

“Hey,” he answered in a hushed, breathless tone. Muffled sounds of something brushing against the mic on his phone made it sound as if he was holding it to his face with his shoulder and I wondered if I’d caught him at a bad time. 

“Hey, you said to call when I was free....” I said, suddenly feeling nervous all over again.

“No, yeah, I’m glad you did,” he said and he did actually sound glad. “Something just came up, we are getting ready to head out to chase down a lead.”

“Oh,” I replied, feeling disappointed and foolish for being so excited to call him. “Well, we can talk another time…”

“I have a quick minute,” he said gently. “How was your day?” I smiled and felt my nerves slip away. I sank back into my couch cushions.

“My day was alright….” I began.

And just like that, my day wasn’t complete unless I got a call from Dean. We talked almost every night now. Most evenings, it was a just a quick call, less than five minutes. Most of his work was done at night and he was always almost with his brother. He’d sneak away, wanting to hear about my day, tell me what he was up to and then wish me good-night. 

Once or twice a week, usually during the weekend, Dean would hang back in his car or spring for his own motel room, giving us the privacy to talk long into the night.

On those nights, we talked about everything. He told me about his parents passing away, I told him about ping-ponging between divorced parents and struggling with step-parents. He told me about how much he worried about Sam and how responsible he felt for his younger brother. I told him about my fiance falling in love with someone else and Dean told me about how his last girlfriend couldn’t handle his line of work and had to leave.

“Can we make a deal?” He asked one night. “Can we make a deal to always tell each other the truth? For once in my life I want to tell someone the truth. All of it.” 

“Have you lied about anything? To me?” I asked, warily.

“No, actually, I haven’t,” he replied. “I don't know if it's because there's a sense of anonymity or I'm hiding behind a phone but there's something about you that makes me want to tell you the truth about everything.”

“I don’t think I’ve lied about anything, either,” I said, trying to think back.

“At first it was hard and uncomfortable and I really had to force myself to do it but now the truth comes so natural with you,” he admitted. “And it feels good.”

“It’s a deal then,” I smiled. “We only ever tell each other the truth.”


	5. Chapter 5

Although we still texted almost constantly during the day, our the nights were for phone calls. I was becoming addicted to these nightly calls and I suspected Dean was, too. It was nice having something to look forward to at the end of a long day. I’d try to catalog various things that happened, stockpiling things to tell him later that night. I’d wait to hear about the different people he was tracking bounties on, the different towns and cities he rolled through and all the characters he cross paths with. His deep voice that was scratchier the more tired he was or that spoke faster when he was happy was like a drug that I couldn’t get enough of.

We’d fallen into a routine that worked for us and we managed to keep it up for a few weeks. Every was going great until the Hybscom-Milton disaster.

Hybscom Media and Milton Global were two of my firm’s biggest clients. Right as the two huge corporations were about to merge, some shady real estate dealings had come to light and were threatening the multi-million dollar business deal. The entire office was in a state of uproar, every intern, every para-legal and every partner was working long hours, some of us even sleeping at the office. 

On Sunday night when all hell first broke lose, I rushed into the office trying to assess the potential damage and I missed Dean’s call. On Monday we texted, but he was working overnight so we missed each other again. Tuesday night I’d been so exhausted I’d passed out on the leather sofa in my office and Wednesday I was in court all day so I couldn’t return any of his texts until later. When I finally did call it went right to voicemail and he reported the next day that he had lost his charger and his battery died. Thursday we played phone tag all evening and missed each other again. By Friday night the firm had successfully averted a huge crisis and the entire office went out to Limoncello’s to celebrate and it wasn’t until I got the next morning that I realized I had a few missed calls and a voicemail from Dean. 

_ “Hey sweetheart, this week has been shit and I miss you. Give me a call the second you get this, I don’t give a damn what time it is. Not talking to you is............ Just call me OK?” _

I glanced at the clock. It was 10:00 am my time and I had no idea where he was or what time zone he was in today. He’d said he missed me. He had insisted that I call, however, no matter what the time was. I poured myself a cup of coffee and took the phone into the living room. I tapped his contact info and held the phone up to my ear.

“Dean’s phone,” a sleepy, sultry feminine voice that most definitely was not Dean answered. My mouth dropped open and I froze. I could hear the rustling of blankets then finally Dean’s deep voice. 

_ “Hey, what are you doing? Give me that--" _  He said off in the background. I quickly hung up and tossed my phone away from me as if it was now somehow contaminated. It bounced off the couch cushions and landed on the carpet with a soft thud. My heart was hammering in my chest and my stomach felt queasy. 

“You're being ridiculous,” I told myself aloud but the sick feeling in my gut remained. My mouth tasted like stale booze and my head throbbed from the slight hangover I had from over celebrating last night. I rubbed my hands over my face and swallowed hard. Dean wasn't mine. He didn't belong to me. He was a voice on my phone. He was practically a figment of my imagination. 

So why did the thought of him in bed with a woman make me feel like I was about to burst into tears. 

“You're being ridiculous," I said again, but louder this time. I bent over and reached for my phone but before I could grab it, it started to ring. 

The sound filled my living room but all I could do was stare at the screen, my fingers hovering inches away. I listened to the obnoxious jingle play for a few more long seconds until the call finally went to voicemail. With a gulp, I snatched up the phone and held it, waiting for the tiny ding that signaled I had a new message. 

When it finally did pop up, I put it on speaker and played it back. 

_ “Hey, sorry about that, she shouldn't have uh… Listen… last night got a little uh…son of a bitch. Look, I'm sorry sweetheart. Please call me back so I can explain.” _

I couldn't call him back, not while she was still there. Some waitress probably, who brought pie with extra ice cream, curled around the body I’d never seen nor touched, his hands and lips on her skin instead of mine.

I felt the liquor from last night start to rise in my throat and I barely made it to the bathroom in time. Leaving my phone in the living room, I headed back to bed and stayed there until early afternoon.

When Dean called back later that evening, I had to force myself to answer.

“Hey,” he said and I could detect a hint of shame in his voice.

“Hey,” I replied. 

“It's been a while,” he said, cautiously.

“Yeah, I'm sorry it's just I've been busy,” I said, wincing at the awkwardness of this situation. Long seconds of uncomfortable silence stretched on. Since that first phone call, we’d never struggled through a conversation like this.

“We need to talk about what happened this morning,” he said at last.

“No we don't. It's fine,” I said, giving my head a shake as if that would ward off the discomfort. “You don’t owe me anything. We are just weird pen pals that talk and text. You can do whatever you want. So can I. It's fine. It’s all fine.”

“It doesn't feel fine,” he grumbled. 

“I know. It's weird,” I sighed.

“I don't want it to be weird, though, and I feel awful for making it weird. I just want it to be like it was. I… I miss talking to you. It’s been almost a week.”

“I know. I miss talking to you too,” I admitted.

“Can we just… can you just tell me about your day? And I can sip my beer and tell you about my day? Can we try to start there?”

“I'd like that,” I said, relieved to put this awkwardness behind us. 

 

Finally,we were back on track. We picked up our routine of texting, sharing photos and chatting most nights. It was incredible how you could feel as if you were spending time with someone that you were not physically with. Dean was with me at work, when I went out for a drink with friends after a long day, while I cleaned the house or ran on the treadmill. It had been three months since that first text and yet,talking to Dean always felt new but still comfortable at the same time. There were no more mystery girls answering his phone and neither of us brought it up or talked about anyone else.

To be honest, having Dean to talk to took so much pressure off of being single. I never felt lonely anymore, I never worried about dating or meeting someone. When I was out with friends, I talked to guys that approached me without worrying about whether I should give them my number because I was heading home to chat with Dean before bed and there was really no one else I’d rather talk to.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm....  
> Smut Warning <3

**_Dean's Point of View_ **

_ Dean shifted on the hard motel bed, trying to escape a spring poking up into his ribs. He brought his arms up and lacing his fingers behind his head, his eyes trained on the small TV. _

_ “I don’t understand why Oliver keeps pushing Felicity away,” Y/N voice whispered in his ear. He reached up and adjusted the ear bud, smiling. _

_ “If he stays with her, he endangers her,” he explained quietly, trying not to disturb Sam who lay reading on the bed next to him. He imagined her, curled up on her couch with her phone, a similar earbud in her ear as they watched TV together. _

_ “She works fighting crime with him,” she sighed. “If they were dating, they’d be together more, he could keep her safe.” _

_ “But she’d be a target,” Dean pointed out. The line grew quiet again and they both watched on quietly. Long minutes of silence stretched on but it was comfortable, both of them distracted by the show. He listened to her soft breath and smiled. He could tell when she was getting caught up in a tense part of the show, her breathing would quicken, then stop, then come whooshing out in a huff as the tension subsited. He chuckled softly, unable to keep a smile from his lips. _

_ “Shut it,” she said. _

_ “You’re cute when you’re tense,” Dean murmured quietly. _

_ “Dean,” she groaned and he imagined her blushing. Next to him, Sammy shut the book he was reading and set it on the nightstand next to the bed. _

_ “I think Sam’s ready for bed,” Dean said. “I should go. Tell me how it ends tomorrow?” _

_ “Will do,” she said, her voice becoming muffled by a yawn. _

_ “No falling asleep. I’m depending on you,” he instructed. _

_ “I won’t let you down,” she giggled. “Good night, Dean.” _

_ “Night, sweetheart,” Dean whispered before ending the call. He looped the earbuds around his phone and set both aside before powering down the television. It had been less than a minute since he’d heard her voice in his ear but already he was looking forward to the next time.  _

 

I was completely addicted to this thing I had going with Dean. Full blow addicted. And I couldn’t tell Tara or my other friends. I had to be careful not to check my phone too much around them. While what was developing between Dean and I felt like the most natural thing in the world, trying to explain it to another person was almost impossible. The only person who seemed to understand was Dean.

“What does Sam think about this?” I asked one night in the middle of the week. Dean had a night off from work and had sprung for a separate room so we could stay up late and talk. We were both in our beds, ready to talk until we fell asleep.

“He tries not to judge, but I think he’s worried that I am addicted to some phone sex line,” Dean admitted.

“Do people actually still do that?” I asked. “With all that porn accessible right there on your phone?”

“I don’t know, I’m sure people still do it.”

“Have you ever?”

“Called and paid for it? No,” he chuckled.

“What about with like a girlfriend or something?”

“Uh… no. I have always had real sex with my girlfriends.”

“What about with a girl whose number you randomly got from a waitress trying to give you the slip?”

“Are you soliciting me for phone sex?” he asked, sounding scandalized.

“Should I give you my credit card?” I teased.

“Oh baby, the first one’s on the house,” he replied but something in his tone made my pulse quicken.

“Oh my god…” I groaned, hoping he could detect the eye roll in my voice.

“So are we doing this?” he asked.

“Ummmm...no,” I said, my blood now pumping hot and fast in my veins.

“Come on you got me kind of excited over here,” he said, sounding disappointed.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” he insisted. I chewed on my lip. Was he serious? Could I do this?

“I don’t know, Dean…”

“Hey,” he said, his voice breathy, low, quiet and serious.

“What?” I croaked. 

“Take off your clothes,” he coaxed. I thought of the picture he’d sent me of him in front of the Impala, how handsome he was and how I imagined what he looked like under his clothes. I bit my lip.

“Fuck, fine,” I said, putting the phone on speaker and placing it next to me on the pillow.

“Yeah!” he cried enthusiastically. “Wait, are you really taking your clothes off?

“Yes, are you?” I asked, shimming out of my nightgown.

“I’ve been naked this whole time,” he said and I burst out laughing, feeling my nerves and anxiety slide away. I bit my lip and marveled again at how easily it was for him to make me feel comfortable and safe. “I’m joking. I am in a t-shirt and my boxers.”

“How do you want to start?” I whispered, covering my face in embarrassment.

“Where are your hands? He replied.

“Over my eyes,” I giggled.

“Why don’t you slide them down a little, over that pretty face, down your throat…” I listened to his deep voice and followed his instructions. “Across your chest, down to your breasts… tell me how it feels?”

“It feels strange,” I admitted.

“Pretend they are my hands,” he suggested. “I’m touching you. I’m cupping your breasts, running my thumbs over your nipples…” I gasped as my fingertips brushed against the sensitive skin there. “Pinching them, gently at first, but slowly increasing the pressure…” I pressed myself deeper into the mattress, suddenly very aroused despite the awkwardness of the situation. “Now you tell me… what are your hands doing to me?”

“I’m running my hands down your chest, over your stomach… closer down to… Oh God Dean, I can’t do this.”

“Wait, listen,” he murmured. “Your hand is wrapped around me and it feels really, really good. You’re stroking me nice and slow and I am loving every second of it… now my hands are going down further, down between your legs and oh my god, you’re so wet…” I slid my hand down and found I was really wet.

“I am,” I moaned, my arousal making my thoughts hazzy.

“Jesus,” he breathed. “Tell me more.”

“I’m rubbing around my clit and I am getting so turned on, I wish you were here, Dean…” I panted, fully disinhibited now.

“I am right here with you, sweetheart,” he replied, his own voice raspy and breathless. “Keep going. Put your finger inside.”

“Ok,” I said, slipping in my middle finger. “I’m sliding it in and out.”

“Add one more,” he grunted, his voice sounding strained. “Push as deep as you can…” I gave up trying to talk and focused on what I was doing to myself, only concerned with finding release. I moaned and arched my back. “You sound so fucking hot baby girl, you are turning me on so much right now. Do you feel good?”

“Yes,” I cried, my voice strained with my efforts. “I’m close.”

“I am, too. Will you finish with me?” he asked.

“Yes, keep talking,” I begged.

“I imagine you laid out in front of me,” he said, “I’m inside you, moving in and out, hard and fast and you feel so tight around me.”

“Dean,” I panted, pleading.

“Yes, baby, do it, let go. Cum with me,” he said and I lost myself in my own undoing, vaguely aware of low moans and grunts on the other end of the phone.

My heart was pounding and my blood was rushing in my ears. My limbs felt heavy and a warm, sleepy, sated feeling wash over me. I let out a contented moan.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Dean said, his voice barely a whisper. “That was the hottest thing I have ever heard. Why haven’t we been doing that all along?” I giggled.

“You say such sexy things,” I murmured. “You expect me to believe you’ve never done this before?”

“You are my first,” he promised.

“I’m glad,” I said, suddenly feeling lonely in my big bed.

“I wish I was next to you,” Dean said, reading my mind. “I’d tuck you in against me and wrap my arms around you.”

“Will you stay on the line until I fall asleep?” I asked, reaching for my extra pillow and hugging it to me.

“Of course,” he replied. “Close your eyes.”

“ ‘Night, Dean,” I whispered as I slid my hand across the mattress to the empty space next to me, feeling only cool sheets. I wondered if he felt as lonely as I did.

“Good night sweetheart.”

 

At work the next day, I returned from my lunch break to find a sweet, small bouquet of flowers on my desk. Confused, I reached for the card tucked in between the blooms and plucked it out and pulled it from the small envelope.

 

_ “Last night was amazing. You’re amazing. Talk to you tonight. X-Dean” _

 

A tingly feeling began to spread from my belly down my legs all the way to my toes. I squeezed my eyes shut and clutched the card to my chest. It seemed that I was in a relationship with a voice on a phone and I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I had felt this happy.

 

-Thank you for the flowers. You are the sweetest.

**\--Glad you liked them. I had Sam do a little recon to find your work address. He says you have a real cute headshot on your company’s webpage.**


	7. Chapter 7

I took the flowers home and placed them on my dining room table, which is where they were two days later when Tara and Gavin came by to pick me up for a weekend on Cape Cod. I shoved the last few remaining items into my suitcase and dragged it over to Gavin to carry down to his car. 

“Let me just grab my purse,” I called to Tara, darting back into my bedroom to grab it off my bed.

“Who is Dean?” she called from the dining room and I froze, cursing under my breath. She walked into the bedroom behind me, wiggling her eyebrows and holding the small card from the bouquet.

“Um…” I stammered, torn between making up a lie about going out on a date and telling her the truth.

“No…” she breathed. “Please tell me it’s not…” I quickly snatched the card from her hand.

“Tara,” I begged. “It’s not like that. It’s not as weird as it sounds.”

“He could be anyone, Y/N,” she said, her eyes wide. “He could be some fat, bald, creep telling you what you want to hear…”

“He’s not,” I said, cringing at how pathetic this all sounded. “I know he’s telling me the truth.”

“Sweetie,” she clucked. “This isn’t healthy.”

“How is this any different than meeting someone on Tinder?” I asked, suddenly feeling hot and defensive. She frowned and shook her head. 

“I guess it’s not, but you don’t need to meet anyone on Tinder,” she tisked, shaking her head as she left the bedroom. I gently returned the card to the bouquet, thinking by the time I got back from The Cape they’d all be dead.

“Listen, Paul, that guy from work is going to be in Hyannis this weekend with friends. Why don’t I text him your number and you guys can go grab a drink?” I looked down at the floor, shifting my weight side to side uncomfortably. Tara placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“I don’t know, Tara,” I sighed.

“I know Robert fucked you over and fucked you up,” she said quietly. “And this phone thing with Dean is appealing because it’s safe. But you can’t hide behind the phone forever. You have to get back out there. Paul is a nice guy. Maybe he’s not the one, but he would be a perfectly fine place to start.”

“OK…” I whispered. “Ok, fine.” Tara beamed and pulled me into a hug.

“I will text him your number as soon as we get on the road,” She said, releasing me and turning to head out. “You will thank me, I promise.” I followed her from the apartment, glancing back one last time at the pretty flowers on my table, feeling sad and more than a little guilty.

 

Paul texted me as we left the city and I marveled at how quick Tara worked. We exchanged a few pleasantries and tried to make light about being set up, but it didn’t make me feel even remotely close to the way I felt texting with Dean. We made plans for Saturday night for Paul to pick me up at our cottage and head to the Black Cat Tavern for a drink.

Tara, Gavin and I had rented a small place right on the beach and we spent Saturday morning and afternoon by the water. Tara and I made mimosas in the morning and Bay Breezes for lunch while Gavin grilled up tasty food.

In the late afternoon, my friends left to go antiquing and then to grab a romantic dinner and I bummed around the back deck, my stomach twisting into knots as the time for me to start getting ready for my date drew closer. I forced myself into the shower, washing away the sand and sun, but the gross feeling that made my skin feel tight remained no matter how hard I scrubbed. I stepped out of the shower and wiped the condensation off the mirror with my hand.

I gently dried my hair and applied a bit of light make-up before pulling on a simple maxi dress and my sparkly flip flops. I heard my phone jingle from inside my purse and my stomach dropped. I fished it out and saw a message from Dean.

**\--How’s The Cape?**

I gripped my phone and pressed my lips into a hard line. I didn’t have to tell him. I could just go and come back and call him and whisper things to him until we fell asleep. He didn’t need to know. My stomach rolled and I swallowed hard and texted a reply, my thumbs flying over the keyboard.

_ -I need to talk to you. Can you call me? Are you free? _

I had barely hit send when my phone started to ring.

“Hey baby girl,” he said, “What’s up?” His deep, smooth voice that usually soothed me to my core only served to upset me more.

“Dean,” I whispered, my voice fully betraying my anguish.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, immediately picking up on my distress. “What’s going on?”

“I have to tell you something,” I whispered, sitting on the edge of the twin bed in my small cottage bedroom. I anxiously picked at a pill on the worn bedspread.

“You can tell me anything,” he said, gently.

“Tara set me up on a date tonight,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut. “I am meeting a guy she works with for drinks. She thinks I need to ‘get back out there’.” Dean’s end of the line grew quiet and I held my breath.

“That sound like fun, sweetheart…” he said and I could tell he was trying to keep his voice upbeat and even.

“What if I don't want to go?” I croaked, clutching the phone so tightly my knuckles ached. Again, the other end of the phone stayed quiet for a few long moments.

“What if I don't want you to go either?” he replied tentatively. A sharp knock at the door made me jump. 

“He's here,” I said, chewing my lip nervously. I wanted Dean to tell me to cancel, to stay home, to talk and text him all night and pretend that this thing we were doing was real enough for both of us.

“You should go, Y/N. Go out. You deserve to be taken out and have a nice time,” he said at last.

“Dean…” I said, my throat feeling tight.

“Go ahead. Call me later, let me know you’re home safe. Have fun, be careful, OK?” he said and then, he ended the call.

I felt sick as I shoved my phone back in my purse. I took a second to compose myself before heading down the stairs and greeting my date. He was handsome, but not like Dean. His eyes were nice, but they were the wrong color. His car was nice, but it was just another leased BMW.

We talked, but we didn’t tell each other the truth. I didn’t tell him how nervous I was to be on a date and he didn’t tell me that he hoped this date would end with me in his bed. After the second round of drinks, he suggested we head down the street and grab some dinner. I smiled and nodded politely, excusing myself to the ladies room first. I locked the door behind me and turned to the sink, staring at myself in the mirror. I forced a smile, just to see what I looked like, just to see if Paul could tell I was faking. With a shake of my head, I reached for my phone and saw the screen held no alerts. No texts from Dean. I opened our text thread and scrolled back through the past few conversations. I stopped on a picture I’d taken of myself. Dean had texted me and I replied that i was busy cooking dinner. He had said microwaving pizza bagels didn’t count as cooking and I’d captured a picture of myself holding a bunch of fresh parsley, with two chicken breasts on a baking sheet on the counter behind me. It was just a stupid selfie I’d taken in my kitchen while i was cooking dinner, but my smile was what made me pause. It was a real, genuine, happy smile and it was just for him.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Dean's Point of View_ **

_ She wasn’t his, not really. He knew he had no claim to her. He knew what this was, in fact, he was painfully aware of what this was. It didn’t make it hurt any less when he pictured her out with another man. _

_ Part of him ached so bad, it was hard to breath. The rest of him was just sad. Sad that he couldn’t be there to take her out. Sad that she was feeling guilty about going out and having fun. Sad he had no idea how to take this amazing thing that had grown between them and turn in into a real, live relationship. _

_ He couldn’t walk away from this life and leave Sam to hunt alone. He knew there was no way she could leave behind her successful life in Boston. _

_ She deserved a man that could commit to her, put his arm around her, kiss her lips, take her out, hold her after a rough day. Maybe this phone thing had gone on long enough. Maybe it was time for the both of them to put an end to this and move on. Maybe going on a date tonight would help her do that. _

_ “Sammy!” Dean called. “We’re going out. I need a drink and I need to chase it with another drink.” Sam appeared in the doorway, fixing his brother with a confused look. “Y/N’s friends set her up on a…” he coughed and cleared his throat before continuing, hoping Sam wouldn’t notice his agitation. “Anyway, I need a few drinks. You coming?” _

_ “Sure, of course,” Sam replied. “Are you OK?” _

_ “Nothing a few whiskies can’t fix,” Dean answered, already heading for the door, wanting nothing more than to drink away the urge to jump in his car and drive to Massachusetts. He could only hope that he could find some girl who would be enough of a distraction tonight. _

 

 

When I returned to the table, I apologized profusely to Paul, saying I’d had too much sun earlier today and my head was throbbing. He was kind enough to take me back home and politely offered to call me again sometime, when we were both back in Boston. Gavin’s car still was missing from the driveway, he and Tara clearly having a better date night than I was. I thanked Paul and apologized again, trying not to hurry out of the car. Once the door was shut me behind me, I let the tears come. I leaned against the wall, sliding down until I was crouched on the floor, my body shaking with sobs. I didn’t want to be hiding from real life, spiraling down into a fake phone relationship instead of meeting someone tangible. Whether it was real or pretend, this thing with Dean had changed everything for me. This connection that I had found with him came so easy and was natural that every other interaction with every other person I’d met since paled in comparison. My hands fumbled for my phone, desperate fingers calling up his contact info and pressing the call button. I struggled to get my sobbing under control.

“Hey, how was the date?” his smooth voice rang in my ear. 

“Dean…” I started, choking on his name as I fell apart again.

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Did something happen? Did he hurt you? If he laid a hand on you, I will fucking rip him limb from--”

“No, he didn’t touch me, I ended the date early, I made him bring me home. I told him I didn’t feel well,” I sobbed.

“Are you sick?” Dean asked, his voice heavy with concern.

“No, not sick, just broken. Something is wrong with me,” I wept.

“Honey, listen to me, there is nothing wrong with you. Hang on one second,” he said and it sounded as if he covered the phone with his hand, but I could hear in still speaking in the background. I strained to listen. _ “Go ahead Sam, I will be in a bit. She’s upset…” _ I took a quick second to wipe my nose on my arm and take deep breath. “Ok, I’m back.”

“You’re busy. I can let you go…”

“No, I’m right there, tell me whats wrong?”

“I just… it’s not normal to not want to go out with a nice guy,” I sniffed. “It’s not normal to want to sit at home talking and texting a complete stranger all night, every night.”

“Ok, listen to me sweetheart, we are not strangers. You know things about me I have never ever told anyone else, you got that? This has nothing to do with you. Maybe this guy just wasn't the right one, you know? That doesn’t mean there is anything wrong with you.”

“Do you still hook up with waitresses, Dean?” You whispered. The phone was quiet for a second before he answered.

“No, not since… no,” he replied and I let out a shuddering breath.

“This is not normal,” I said, feeling the tears welling up again.

“You know what? Fuck normal,” he said, his voice taking on an angry tone I had never heard before. “I like talking to you. I like spending my nights talking to you. One night on the phone with you is worth more than a thousand nights with a thousand Courtneys.” The tears overran my lashes and spilled down my cheeks. I cried because I wanted nothing more than what I had with Dean to be real and no matter how much I wished for it to be something, it just wasn’t. Not really. 

“Please don’t cry, baby,” he pleaded. My heart ached and all of my nerve endings felt raw and exposed. 

“Do you…” I faltered but continued on before I could lose my courage. “Do you think it’s possible to fall in love with someone you’ve never met?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” Dean replied almost immediately and the conviction in his voice made my heart want to burst. “Yes,” he repeated, softer this time. I took a deep, quivering breath.

“Fuck normal?” I asked. 

“Fuck it,” he said, his voice strong and clear. “Dry your tears. Blow your cute little nose. Go take a hot shower. I have a few things I need to do, but I will call you in a little bit, OK?”

“Ok,” I said, nodding and dashing my tears on the back of my hand.

“Are you alright now?” he asked one more time.

“I think so,” I replied. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome, baby girl,” he said. “Talk to you in a little while.”

“Bye, Dean,” I said, hanging up. I pushed myself off the floor and made a beeline for the bathroom. I flipped on the light and gazed at the mess that was my face in the mirror. I’d cried off all the make-up I didn’t want to put on in the first place. I peeled off my dress and climbed back into the shower, making it as hot as I could. I sat down on the floor of the bathtub and clutched my knees to my chest, the hot stream of water soaking my hair, soothing the ache in my shoulders. I breathed in the steam that swirled around me, feeling the tightness in my chest start to release.

“Fuck normal,” I whispered as I watched the wasted water swirl down the drain. Maybe I was hiding, maybe I wasn’t. Maybe it was pretend, maybe it was real. Dean made me happy, gave me something to look forward to. Maybe he was exactly what I needed right now. I thought back to the first few days of texting him, when I’d unloaded on him about my shitty presentation to the Board of Directors. He’d said that was was meant to be would be. I’d been wary about letting fate decide my outcome, but the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if that wasn't exactly what was at play here. Something had caused a midwestern waitress to rattle off my 617 area code, to give Dean my number.

I needed to stop caring what Tara or my other friends would think. The only thing that mattered is what Dean thought and he said he liked spending his nights talking to me. Maybe I was good for him, too. Maybe fate had put me in his life for a similar reason. Maybe he needed this as much as I did right now. Maybe that was all that mattered.

Before the hot water could become fully depleted, I shut off the tap and climbed out, feeling better than I had since we had left Boston.

I dried off and pulled on my pajamas, crawling into the small bed with my book. I read for a while, the plot working to distract me from my earlier breakdown and I didn’t realize I had started to doze off until my phone began to ring. 

Suddenly wide awake, I dropped my book and reached for my cell.

“Hi,” I sighed happily. 

“Hey baby,” Dean replied, sounding relieved to hear me calm again. “Feeling better?”

“Yes, better now,” I answered, chewing my lip. “I’m sorry I kind of fell apart there.”

“Don’t apologize. Not ever,” he insisted. “I am always gonna be here for you.” I nodded, my throat to tight with emotion to respond. “So listen. I, uh, have a surprise for you.”

“For me?” I asked, swallowing down the lump in my throat.

“I had to pull a few strings --no pun intended-- but I was able to borrow this acoustic guitar.”

“You have a guitar?” I asked. “Do you play?”

“I sure do,” he replied.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” I demanded.

“Because you never asked during our game. That’s on you, sweetheart,” he said and I heard the strum of the guitar. “I’m gonna facetime you. You ready?”

“No, Dean, I look like shit,” I groaned.

“Impossible,” he said.  There was some shuffling for a moment and my screen flashed that I had an incoming Facetime call. I quickly pulled my hair from it’s messy pony tail and tried to comb my fingers through my wet strands. I gave my head one quick shake before answering. Dean’s ruggedly handsome face flashed on my screen and my heart skipped a beat.

“There's that pretty face,” he said, making me blush. “Can you see me ok?” He asked.

“All I can see is this hot guy holding a guitar. Is that you?” 

“You know it,” he answered, flashing me a wide smile and making me return it ten-fold. “Hang on one second.” He moved the phone back, propping it up against something and settled back so I had a clear view of him, sitting on the edge of a twin bed, cradling an acoustic guitar in front of him.

“I’m a little rusty so bear with me,” He cleared his throat and then, the sound of gentle acoustic guitar filled the air.

_ “I can hear her heartbeat for a thousand miles … And the heavens open every time she smiles...And when I come to her that's where I belong...Yet I'm running to her like a river's song...She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love...She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love...She's got a fine sense of humor when I'm feeling low down...Yeah when I come to her when the sun goes down...Take away my trouble, take away my grief...Take away my heartache, in the night like a thief...She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love...She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love...Yes I need her in the daytime...Yes I need her in the night...Yes I want to throw my arms around her...Kiss and hug her, kiss and hug her tight...Yeah when I'm returning from so far away...She gives me some sweet lovin' brighten up my day...Yes it makes me righteous, yes it makes me whole...Yes it makes me mellow down in to my soul...She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love...She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love...She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love...She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love…” _

 

I struggled to hold back tears as I listened to his strong voice and soft music. I watched him sing eyes closed, looking slightly nervous and unsure, but playing for me anyway. 

When he finished I leaned the phone against the lamp on my nightstand so I could clap for him.

“That was beautiful,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t betray all the emotions I was feeling. “Thank you.”

“You’re are more than welcome,” he replied. “Want another one?”

“Yes, please,” I whispered, settling down into my pillows. I moved the phone so it was propped up beside me on the bed while Dean played several more songs for me, but it was the first one that was stuck on repeat in my mind long after he’d wished me goodnight and we’d hung up the phone.  _ Love, love, love, love…. Crazy love. _


	9. Chapter 9

**_Dean's Point of View_ **

_ Dean leaned the guitar back against the wall by his bed. He’d have to return it to the bar tonight before it closed. The band that had been setting up as he and Sam were going in had it in their van and he’d paid them $50 bucks to borrow it for a few hours. He was glad that the night hadn’t gone as he had planned. He didn’t want to sleep with a strange woman to try to forget Y/N. Not really. And although it had wrecked him to hear her sobbing, he was glad her date had ended early. _

_ Even after he’d dropped the guitar back off and Sam had returned from the bar with a slight buzz, her question kept ringing in his head. If he hadn’t fallen in love with her yet, he was well on his way and although that thought terrified him, the thought that she was right there with him was reassuring. He had absolutely no idea what this was or where it could ever go, but he knew he didn’t want it to stop. _

 

 

The next morning, I gave Tara the same excuse I’d given Paul about too much sun and having a headache, but I know she didn’t buy it. The only difference was, today I didn’t care. I hummed Van Morrison as I moved around the cottage, grabbing my beach towel, book and sunglasses before heading out. When my phone buzzed, I didn’t try to hide it for Tara. I smiled as I read the new message from Dean.

**\--I need to see your pretty smile**

I was slick with sunscreen and sweat, my hair wild from the salt air, but I didn’t care. I unabashedly snapped a selfie, sunglasses and all, smiling from ear to ear because Dean wanted to see me. 

**\--So gorgeous**

_ -You make me feel gorgeous _

**\--But you are**

_ -I bet you say that to all your phone girlfriends. Call me tonight if you’re free. I will be home by then. _

 

I caught Tara watching me from the corner of my eye as I tucked my phone back into my beach bag, but I ignored her and went back to reading my book.

It was very, very late that night when Dean finally called. It took me a few seconds to figure out what the sound was that had woken me from my deep sleep. I scrabbled around trying to find my phone on my nightstand.

“Mmm?” I said, still trying to crawl back into consciousness.

“I’m so sorry to wake you. I know it’s late,” he said. Something in his voice sounded off, distressed, agitated.

“Are you ok?” I asked, suddenly awake.

“I’m fine… it was just a bad night,” he murmured. “Rough case.”

“What happened?”

“I can’t… I don’t really want to get into it sweetheart,” he replied, sounding tired. “I just want to hear about your day. I just want to listen to you talk, for a little bit.”

“Ok,” I smiled. “Let me get comfortable here.” I nestled back down it my pillows.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” he said again.

“No, I’m glad you did. I … uh, I missed you,” I said, tentatively.

“I missed you too, baby girl,” he replied and I could hear the smile in his voice. “So tell me about your day.”

“My day, my day,” I started, suppressing a yawn. “We hit up the outlets on the way home. I got this great new pair of jeans!”

“Thrilling,” Dean teased. 

“Well, if you could have seen my ass in those jeans it would have been,” I teased back.

“You didn’t think to send me a picture?” he asked, sounding offended.

“I’m not going to take a picture of my ass for you,” I laughed. “Who does that?” The other end of the line suddenly was silent and I glanced at my phone to make sure I hadn’t lost the connection. “Dean? Hello? Dean?”

“Check your phone,” he said at last and with a buzz, up popped a picture of Dean’s jean clad ass that he had clearly just taken it over his shoulder. My heart jolted in my chest. It looked every bit as good as I imagined. 

“Nice,” I giggled.

“I hear that a lot,” he joked. “But I bet yours is spectacular.” I bit down on my lip. I wished I could be brave and tell him to come see for himself. I wished I could tell him to that if he were here, I’d wrap my arms around him and make his bad day, his bad case disappear. We talked about anything and everything except for one topic. We never spoke of meeting. “Did you fall asleep on me sweetheart?”

“No, no, I’m here,” I murmured, squeezing my eyes shut. “What else do you want to hear about?”

“What were you dreaming about before I so rudely woke you up?” 

_ “You.” I wanted to say. “I was dreaming about you, in bed, beside me. Your head on my pillow, your arm draped across me… _

“I can't remember now,” I said instead, feeling my face start to flush. Dean chuckled.

“Come on now,” he prodded. “We don’t lie to each other. Never have. So… out with it.”

“I can’t remember!” I insisted, with a laugh.

“You were dreaming about me, weren’t you,” he guessed and I cringed, suddenly embarrassed. “I knew it!” he said, triumphantly. “Was it a naughty dream?”

“No, oh my God Dean,” I groaned. “I was just dreaming that you were next to me, just sleeping next to me.”

“You were dreaming about sleeping?” he asked. 

“No, I guess in the dream, I was awake…”

“Was I snoring?” he asked, the angsty tone from earlier replaced with this playful teasing one that I adored.

“No, you were holding me,” I said, my voice coming out in breathy tones.

“That sounds amazing,” he replied. “I’ve had a couple dreams about you, too.”

“No sir,” I said, full on blushing now.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice deep and serious. “Naked ones.”

“Were they good dreams?”

“Mmmhmm…” he drawled. “Very good. If I wasn’t so tired right now and sharing a room with Sam, I’d tell you all about them.”

“Next time,” I said, already tingling with anticipation.

“It’s a date. I should let you get back to your dream. It’s late and I am standing outside in the parking lot of our motel so I should probably go in. Maybe I will try to find you in my dream.”

“That sounds nice,” I said, suppressing a yawn.

“Thanks for waking up to talk to me,” he said. 

“Any time,” I promised.

“I will give you a call tomorrow night, say around 8?”

“Can’t wait,” I smiled.

“Sweet dreams,” he said before he clicked off. I set my phone back on the nightstand and pulled the blankets around me again, hoping I could get back to sleepy, snugly dreamland Dean.


	10. Chapter 10

I readied for my Dean date the next night, but 8:00 came and went. It was unusual for Dean not to be prompt, but I figured something must have come up. When my phone finally rang just after nine, I was both relieved and excited.

“You’re late,” I giggled into the phone.

“Y/N?” An unfamiliar voice responded in my ear.

“Who is this?”

“This is Sam Winchester, Dean’s brother,” he replied and I felt my stomach drop to my feet. “Dean’s been in an accident.”

“Oh my God,” I replied, sitting up straight and gripping the phone tighter. “What happened? Is he alright?”

“He’s going to be fine, but he has to stay in the hospital for a few days,” Sam reported.  My mouth had gone dry and I tried to lick my lips. My mind was reeling, and I struggled to keep the panic at bay. 

“What happened, Sam?” I repeated.

“He got shot,” Sam answered, his voice cracking. “Took a bullet in his shoulder. But he’s going to be ok. He’s lucky.”

“Can I talk to him?” I asked, my voice wavering.

“They have him in surgery,” Sam replied. “He lost a lot of blood. He only came to long enough to ask me to call you, he said you two had a date tonight?” I squeezed my eyes shut. He was badly injured, in a hospital somewhere, and he was worried about missing our call.

“Yeah, we had plans to talk,” I explained. “It’s not really a date…”

“He’s told me a lot about you,” Sam said, and just like with Dean, I could hear the smile in his voice. “He really, really cares about you.” A tear splashed onto my shirt and I realized I was crying.

“I really care about him, too,” I sniffed. “He’s going to be ok?”

“Yes, he should be back to his old, cranky, obnoxious self in no time,” Sam laughed.

“Tell him…” I paused as my voice broke. “Tell him to hurry up and get better. Tell him he owes me a date.”

“I will tell him that,” Sam promised. “I will keep you updated if anything changes and you can call me on Dean’s phone if you need to.”

“Hey, Sam?” I asked quickly. “Are you OK?”

“I… uh... Yeah,” Sam answered tentatively. “I think I am. He scared me good for a minute there, though. He’s the only family I have...”

“I know,” I whispered and Sam drew in a ragged breath. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, it’s alright. I’m good, Dean’s gonna be fine… but thank you,” he reassured me.

“I am glad you are both going to be ok,” I said, sincerely. “Thank you so much for calling,” I said before I hung up. 

 

_**Sam Winchester's Point of View** _

_ Sam hung up the phone and sank down into to nearest plastic hospital chair. Dean was going to be fine which meant that he was going to be fine. He’d forgotten about himself until Y/N had asked him how he was doing. It was easier to worry about Dean than take stock of his own well being. Sam was scared, alone, covered in the blood of his last remaining family member. He suddenly felt sick and lightheaded and had to duck his head between his knees and concentrate on his breathing. His vision swam and darkened at the corners before it finally cleared. Sitting up straight again, he ran a hand through his hair.  _

_ This is what Dean had always done, worried about Sam or the job instead of himself and finally Sam could understand why. Directing that attention back onto one’s self brought into harsh focus all the cracks in the veneer, all the missing and damaged parts that you worked so hard to ignore. _

_ When he’d found Dean, he’d gone into survival mode. His focus had been laser sharp. Stop the bleeding. Call for help. When his brother had regained consciousness, Sam expected the first thing out of his mouth would be to ask if the bounty had gotten away. In fact, he’d had his whole speech planned out where he’d tell him to shut-up and stop being a work-a-holic, but Dean had surprised him. _

_ “You have to call Y/N,” he ground out. “She will be worried if I don’t call. We had a date tonight…”  _

_ Seemingly, without him even noticing, Dean’s priorities had shifted. And all it had taken was a gunshot wound and a few pints of lost blood. _

 

 

As I hung up the phone with Sam, I was suddenly overcome with emotion. Dean was hurt, he was lying in a hospital, God knows where, with a bullet hole in him and there was nothing I could do. Not knowing what else to do, I dialed Tara.

“I need to talk to you about something,” I said, my voice trembling. “And I need you to just not judge me and just be there for me.”

“Is this about Dean--” Tara started.

“He’s been shot, Tara,” I said, my voice finally giving way to my emotions. “He’s in surgery.”

“What?” she cried. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” I wailed. “His brother just called, said he got shot, he lost a lot of blood, he is in surgery, but he expects him to be alright.”

“Wait, so he’s gonna be ok?” Tara repeated.

“Yes, that’s what Sam said,” I confirmed. “I just feel so helpless…”

“This is awful, Y/N. I am so sorry. What can I do?”

“I don’t know. Nothing, just you listening was enough,” I replied. “Thank you.”

“You know, I don’t understand what is going on with you and this guy,” she sighed. “But you seem, I don’t know… happy.”

“I am,” I sniffed.

“Then that’s enough for me,” she replied. “Keep me posted on his condition.” I promised that I would and forced myself to get ready for bed, hoping that I’d at least have more news tomorrow.

Sam called me the next day and I ducked into my office and shut the door to take his call.

“He got hit in the left shoulder,” Sam explained. “It was a small caliber bullet but it nicked an artery. Not a lot of damage, but he needed a pretty decent amount of blood transfused when he got to the hospital. They got the bullet out and sewed him up. He will have full use of his arm but he needs to take it easy for a few weeks.” I sank down into my chair and let the good news wash over me.

“When can I talk to him?” I asked.

“He’s pretty doped up right now,” Sam chuckled. “He keeps, uh… he keeps saying your name.” I smiled despite the tightening in my chest. “As soon as they wean him off the pain meds, I will have him call you.”

“Thanks, Sam, hang in there,” I replied.

“You, too. We will talk soon,” he promised before I let him go.

It was early the next morning and I was dressing and putting on some make-up when my phone rang next to me. I hadn’t been more than two inches from it since Sam’s first call and I answered it on the first ring.

“Hello?” I said, grimacing slightly at how frantic I sounded.

“Hey, baby girl,” the tired yet familiar voice murmured in my ear. Relief flooded my veins and my knees felt weak. I had to sit down.

“Dean, oh my god,” I breathed. “I am so glad you’re ok.”

“I’m fine, I promise,” he replied. “Sore as hell, but I will live.”

“You’d fucking better,” I swore causing him to chuckle.

“I’m sorry I missed our date,” he apologized and I couldn’t help but shake my head.

“It’s ok, Sam filled in for you,” I teased. “Do sexy telephone voices run in the family?”

“I see how it is,” he groaned. “One little bullet hole and you kick a guy to the curb.” I felt my smile begin to falter.

“You scared me, Dean,” I whispered. “I was so worried. I don’t know what I would do if… if…”

“Hey, you don’t have to worry anymore, alright? Nothing’s gonna happen to me,” he reassured me. “I will be back to whispering naughty things in your ear before you know it.” I laughed in spite of myself. 

“You always know exactly the right thing to say to make me feel better,” I told him. “Always.”

“I’m glad. Listen, I have to rest and I am gonna be here another day or so, but I will call you soon. Promise me you won’t worry anymore.”

“I can’t promise that,” I replied. “And we don’t lie to each other.”

“You’re right, we don’t,” he confirmed. “Try to hang in there. Be brave. OK?”

“Ok, Dean,” I said, nodding to firm up my resolve. “Take care. I… I will talk to you soon.”

I leaned my head back against the door of the sink cabinet and tried to take deep, calming breaths. Dean was ok. He was going to be alright.

I repeated this over and over to myself the next few days. Sam called me a few times to check in, telling me his brother was resting comfortably and the doctors had cleared him to be discharged. I finally got a text from Dean, telling me that Sammy had sprung for an extra nice hotel room for him to recover in.

**\--Poor guy must feel bad about me getting shot up, he even splurged on separate rooms so that we could talk in private.**

_ -Aww. I like him. _

**\--I will call you tonight, ok?**

_ -Of course! I can’t wait! _

 

I was just crawling into bed when my phone finally rang later that night.

“Hello! How are you? Are you comfortable? Are you in pain? Did they give you pain medication? Are you taking it?” I blurted out.

“Whoa, whoa, sweetheart,” Dean laughed. “I’m fine. Really. I am. Yes, I am comfortable. No, I’m not in pain. Yes, they gave me meds, but I don’t like taking them, they make me too sleepy.”

“No, you should take them,” I urged. “If you need to sleep we can talk tomorrow.”

“No, I’m not waiting another goddamn day to talk to you,” he said, sounding more than a little irritated. I took my cue and backed off a bit. He took a deep breath.

“Sorry. I just need to know that you're alright,” I said sheepishly.

“We tell each other the truth, right?” he said, trying again, his voice calmer now.

“Yes,” I afirmed.

“The truth is I’m alright now... but I was scared, Y/N,” he said, hesitantly. “I was scared that I fucked up. That I missed my chance…” he paused, struggling with his words for the first time I could remember since we started talking all those months ago. I waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts. “All I could think about was getting out of there… calling you and hearing your voice again,” he continued, his voice sounding strained. “Is that crazy?” Something clenched in my abdomen and a tingly warmth began to spread through my chest.

“No,” I replied, twisting the sheet in my hand. “It’s not crazy. Your texts… talking to you… it’s the best part of my day.”

“Mine, too, baby,” he replied. “What… what are we doing here?”

“I don’t know, Dean,” I whispered.

“Do you ever…” he started.

“Yes, all the time,” I replied, cutting him off and wincing. I knew he was going to ask if I ever thought about meeting in person and these days, it was pretty much all I thought about.

“Me, too. So….what do you think?” he asked tentatively. I chewed my lip

“What if it’s not the same?” I whispered, my throat tightening up. “What if this connection that we have on the phone doesn’t hold up in real life?” My pulse pounded in my ears as I strained to hear his reaction through the phone.

“Maybe you’re right,” he sighed at last and I felt my heart begin to sink. “But what if you’re not?” I sat up straighter, surprised. “What if it is just as good or even better? What if we never find out?”

“You want to find out?” I asked, slowly.

“Yeah, I do,” he breathed. “Do you?”

“Yes,” I said, nodding even though he couldn't see me.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, sounding surprised, maybe even excited. I bit my lip. 

“Yeah,” I repeated as anxious butterflies took wing in my belly.

“OK. Ok, Yeah, so...” he said, laughing nervously. “So, when?”

“Ummm,” I stammered, pushing my blankets off and swinging my legs over the side of the mattress. I stood and began to pace, suddenly far to excited to sit still. “Where are you?”

“Right now?” he asked. “We are in Indiana, just outside of Indianapolis.”

“How for from Boston is that?” I asked.

“Let me look,” he said and I could hear the rustling against the speaker and tapping on the screen and I imagined him pulling up Google Maps. “About 15 hours, give or take,” he said, bringing the phone back up to his ear. “I could do that.”

“Now?” I whispered, unable to keep the excitement from my voice.

“Well, I probably should rest up a few more days…”

“Oh, yeah, right,” I said, shaking my head and feeling silly.

“But in a few days… I could… I can get on the road… to you… to where you are,” he stammered, making me giggle. “Shit.” he swore and I laughed harder. “You having second thoughts about meeting this stammering idiot?”

“No,” I replied. “Not at all. Just get some sleep, I will see you soon.”

“Soon,” he repeated. “Good night sweetheart.”

“Night, Dean,” I said, suddenly feeling dizzy and breathless. As I hung up the phone, I realized that it was going to be much, much harder to fall asleep that night.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT WARNING!!

We agreed that he would take two more days to rest, then he would get on the road. We also agreed that it would be better if we didn’t talk on the phone in the meantime, wanting to save up everything we had to say for a real, live, in person conversation.

It was torture.

Luckily, I had Tara to keep my focused. Ever since I had confided in her about Dean’s accident, she’d shifted gears to being fully supportive. When I told her he was coming, she asked me one time if I thought it was a good idea.

“I think so,” i said, nervously. “I think we have to at least meet and see if this could actually be… something.”

“Ok, then, If you’re sure, I’m sure,” she said, giving my hand as squeeze. “We need to do some shopping.”

She dragged me to the mall, helping me pick out something for every occasion. We got new sheets and new pillows. She took me to Victoria’s secret and helped me pick out everything from sexy nightgowns to new bra and pantie sets to comfortable pajama pants. We grabbed new outfits, new shoes and top it off by getting fresh mani/pedis for both of us.

We talked over all the different scenarios, hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.

“If it’s a flop, you just have to tell him,” Tara instructed. “And be prepared for him to tell you the same thing. Don’t try to force it. In the end, even if it doesn't work out, at least you know you tried.”

“I don’t think it will be a flop,” I smiled.

“Well, if it’s not a flop, you stay inside and sex each other up until one of you dies.”

When I finally received the text that he’d reached The Mass TurnPike, I actually jumped up and down with excitement. In a few short hours, I would know, for better or worse, what it felt like to wrap my arms around Dean Winchester. I texted him my address, telling him I couldn’t wait to see him.

I wandered anxiously from room to room, trying to stay busy. I tried reading, but couldn’t focus. I tried cleaning, but everything was clean. I tried watching TV, but nothing could hold my attention. I checked my phone every thirty seconds or so and when it finally jingled, I let out a small yelp.

**\--Sweetheart?**

_ -YES?! _

**\--I am in your lobby.**

_ -alkdjflkajflkajfd;alkdfs _

_ -I mean _

_ -Be right down! _

I leapt from softa and sprinted to the door. I barely remembered to grab my keys and flew down the hall to the elevator, pressing the Lobby button over and over and over until the doors closed.

The lobby of my building was bustling as I exited the elevator. One side of the building was used for offices and the other side was condos and apartments and as a result, the lobby was always bustling. I struggled to see around all the people.

I spotted him standing by the concierge desk. He had on a gray collared shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows over a navy blue t-shirt with dark jeans and boots. His hands were jammed in his pockets and he was glancing around. I actually laughed out loud as I watched him, joy bubbling up from my toes that he was here. That he was real. And it didn't hurt that he was absolutely the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on. 

“Dean!” I cried out, his name rolling off my tongue with a slight giggle. His head snapped up, his green eyes suddenly trained on me. A slow, wide smile spreads across his handsome features. Both of us stared unblinking at each other for a long moment. 

“Get over here,” he called at last, stabbing at the empty space before him with one finger. I broke out into a run, closing the distance quickly and flinging myself into his arms, wrapping my arms around his neck. I heard him hiss slightly and I realized I'd forgotten about his shoulder wound. I moved to let him go but he caught me and held me with his good arm, squeezing me tightly to him. I closed my eyes, reveling in the physical contact I'd only dreamed of until this moment. 

“Hey, baby girl,” he murmured. I loosened my hold on his neck and he lowered me to the ground. 

“Hi,” I replied, my voice coming out in a breathy whisper, a goofy grin still splitting my face. “I'm so glad you made it. Are you exhausted? Sore?” I asked, gazing up at him and surveying him for signs of weariness or discomfort. 

“Not at all,” he replied. I realized that my hands were still resting on his broad chest. I quickly pulled them away, dropping my arms back down to my sides.

“Hungry?” I asked. Dean’s eyebrows shot up.

“Very,” he said, the deep timbre of his voice sending a shiver up my spine.

“Let’s head up, then,” I said, still beaming. He reached for his bag and hefted it onto his shoulder. As I turned, he reached for my hand, taking it in his as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He only let go once we were inside the elevator.

“This is a real fancy place you got here, sweetheart,” he said, leaning against the wall of the elevator. 

“Well, I’m a big deal,” I teased. 

“I can see that,” he replied, glancing down at me. “So how we doing so far? Is this as weird as you expected?”

“Actually, it’s weird how un-weird it is,” I said, realizing as I spoke these words that being here with Dean was completely and utterly comfortable.

“I was thinking the same damn thing,” he said, sounding as if he too had only just realized that this whole meeting in real life thing should feel more awkward than it did.

“Is it what you expected?” I asked, glancing up at him hesitantly. He shook his head ‘no’, his green eyes sparkling.

“You are even more beautiful than I could have imagined,” he said. “And that is the truth.” I felt a heady blush creeping up my neck and I was grateful as the elevator doors slid open, letting us out on my floor.

I led him down the hall to my door and let us in.

“Home sweet home,” I said, stepping inside. I set my keys down on the small table by the door. As the door closed behind me, he dropped his bag on the carpet and I headed towards the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” he called after me and I stopped, turning back towards him.

“You said you were hungry, I was gonna grab you something to eat,” I explained.

“I said I was hungry,” he replied, taking step towards me. “I never said it was for food.” My knees suddenly felt weak as I registered his meaning. That familiar heat began to pool in my belly and I bit my lip anxiously as he took a few more steps towards me.

“Dean,” I whispered, shifting under the intensity of his gaze. My mouth was suddenly too dry to form words.

“I’ve been on dozens of dates with you,” he murmured, coming to stand in front of me. “I’ve heard you laugh, I’ve heard you cry, I’ve slept beside you for months. I know your favorite color, your favorite food, your favorite songs… and you know all mine.” He reached up and gently cradled my face in his hands, his rough and calloused finger tips gently brushing over my skin before tangling in my hair. My heart was in my throat and I felt my surroundings disappear. “I’m hungry, Y/N. Starving, even. But if you’re not there yet, if you want to wait…” I cut him off, pressing my lips to his, my own hunger suddenly unbearable. I was starved, had been starving for months and I was determined to get my fill. 

I broke the kiss and looked up at him from under hooded lids and saw my own desire mirrored on his face.

“Uh...bedroom?” he panted. I nodded to the doorway off the living room. We waltzed backwards, kissing and tugging at each other’s clothes. We paused by the bed and he gingerly slid out of his shirt and I gasped at the sight of the bandage around his left shoulder, the skin around it an angry red mixed with fading bruises. 

“It’s nothing,” he said, taking my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “It made me realize I needed to be here with you.” I blinked up at him and nodded. He released his grip on me and his hands slid under the hem of my shirt, helping it up and off. He then reached forward, unclasping my belt and popping the button on my jeans. I wiggled out of them, blushing profusely.

“God damn,” he groaned. “You really don’t wear any underwear.”

“I wasn’t lying,” I giggled, moving my hands to his belt. Once we were both free of all our clothes, he wrapped his arm around my waist, lifting me off my feet and laying me back down on the bed.

He hovered above me, dark green eyes squinting down at me. My heart was thudding in my chest, my bare skin burning against his.

“I need you to know that I didn't come here for sex,” he said, brushing my hair from my face as he spoke. “I came here because I am pretty sure that I am in love with you and I had run out of reasons to stay away.”

“I’m pretty sure I am in love with you, too,” I whispered, reaching up and placing a hand on his cheek. His eyelids fluttered shut and he lowered his mouth to mine, kissing me so gently and so sweetly I felt as if I might melt right into the mattress. 

“I’ve been dying to touch you, Y/N,” he whispered, his hands sliding up my torso to cup my breasts. He lowered his lips back to mine and I moaned as his tongue found mine again. His hands moved from my chest, roaming all over my body. I ran my fingertips through his short hair, down his neck. I arched my back, desperate to be closer to him, to feel him against me. We had months of build up, foreplay and teasing and I couldn't take one more second.

“Dean, I need you,” I begged. “I can’t wait any longer.”

“I promise, next time I'm gonna take my time with you,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire. “But right now, I need to be inside you.” He shifted and I could feel the hard length of him. I tilted my hips so that he was pressed against me.

“Jesus, baby girl,” he muttered. “I’ve barely even touched you.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, remembering it had been over a year since I’d had sex. I bit my lip and gazed up at him anxiously.

“I’ll go slow,” he promised, reading my mind like always and I nodded. I gave a sharp intake of breath as he entered me and he kept his eyes trained on mine, going slow, determined not to hurt me. The sensation of him filling me was too much to bear and I felt my eyes roll back in ecstasy. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he swore, burying his head in the crook of my neck. His day old scruff scratched against my skin, sending a shiver right down my spine.

He stayed still for a long moment and I realized he was trying to keep himself from finishing before he even started. He took in a few shallow breaths before he started moving, slowly and I couldn’t help the moan that escaped my lips. Our connection was complete, it was total. We were now, finally, joined on every level two people could be and the result filled me with a flood of emotion. Tears pricked at my eyes and I struggled to hold them back.

“I waited so long,” I whispered, hugging him to me. “You feel so good. You make me feel so good.”

“This feels better than anything I've ever known,” he whispered, kissing my tears away. “I have never wanted anything as much as I wanted you.” His lips fluttered over my cheeks, my nose, my jaw, down my throat. “All those nights… hearing your voice in my ear…” I tipped my head back and he nibbled on my collarbone. I thought about all the nights I spent in this very bed alone, wishing he was here. I tilted my gaze back to him, watching him move above me, his own eyes roaming over my face and my body, as if he too was unable to believe this was happening after all this time.

Dean made love to me, whispering my name, kissing me everywhere his lips could reach, until we both couldn’t take it anymore and came together, crying out and clutching at one another. After we both fell back down to Earth, he gathered me up in his arms and held me tight, just like he promised he would.


	12. Chapter 12

It was very late when we finally climbed from my bed. I watched him pull on his boxer briefs while I slipped on and buttoned up his gray shirt from earlier.

“God damn, you look good in my clothes,” he murmured, tugging me to him. I wrapped my arms around his waist and tilted my lips to his. As he pressed a kiss there, I sighed, thinking I’d never, ever get tired of that feeling. Our kiss was interrupted by the growling of my stomach. 

“I’m hungry,” I giggled.

“C’mon,” he said, taking my hand and leading me back into my kitchen. He lifted me up and sat me on the counter. I watched, smiling, as he moved to my fridge, pulling the door open and looking around. “Here we go,” he said, pulling out a carton of eggs. He set them on the counter next to me. He turned back and rummaged around, coming up with a pack of American cheese, butter and a jar of mayonnaise.

“Bread?” he asked, and I pointed to a basket on top of the fridge. “Frying pan?”

“Drawer under the stove,” I said, watching on amused. He retrieved the pan and put it on the stove, heating it up. He then went drawer to drawer until he found a spatula. Adding a few pats of butter to the hot pan, he proceeded to crack in a few eggs before scrambling them up while they cooked. 

“Darlin’ would you mind toasting up that bread, then spreading some mayo on it?” he asked.

“Mayo, eggs and cheese?” I asked, unsure.

“You’re going to stop trusting me now?” he asked and I bit my lip.

“You have a point,” I conceded, hopping off the counter and tossing the bread in the toaster. A few minutes later, I was apologizing in between bites of a delicious egg sandwich. 

“I will never doubt you again,” I swore, eyeing him across the counter. He winked at me and I felt those familiar butterflies flapping in my stomach.

“So I am glad we got all that sex out of the way,” he said and almost choked on my food.

“Why?” I laughed once I had swallowed.

“Now we can go back to talking,” he said, flashing me a smile. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you in days.” He was right, we hadn't talked since he was discharged from the hospital. 

“You’re not sick of talking to me yet?” I teased.

“Never in a million years,” he said, his eyes locked on mine. When we finished, we adjourned to the living room and curled up on the couch. 

“I feel like i should be holding my phone,” he joked. 

“No, you should be holding me,” I replied, nestling in against him.

“God, yes,” he said, planting a kiss on the top of my head. “I plan on doing little else the whole week I’m here.”

“A whole week,” I sighed happily. I shifted so that I could look up at him. “What happens at the end of the week?” Dean was quiet for a moment. 

“I’m honestly not sure,” he said. “No matter what happens, though, this is not the last time we are going to be together. I promise you. Let’s just enjoy this week, OK? We will see where we we up in seven days.”

“Ok,” I nodded. I reached up and cupped the back of his neck, drawing him down so that I could kiss his sweet lips.

“We’re not going to get much talking done, are we?” he asked, his deep voice a sexy grind.

“Uh-uh,” I said, shaking my head. I crawled from his lap and stood, slowly backing away from him, my fingers undoing the buttons on my borrowed shirt, letting it slide to the floor. 

“You are absolutely incredible,” he said, pushing himself off the couch and following me back into the bedroom.

Much later, we did get to talk. I listened to his deep voice, so much deeper in person, resting my head on his chest, while he told me about the bad guy that he and Sam were chasing, how he got the jump on them and how as he felt the bullet tearing through his flesh, the first thing he thought of was me.

“I had to stay alive,” he whispered. “I had to meet you, kiss you, feel your body moving beneath mine. I wanted to find out what your hand felt in mine, what your shampoo smelled like...”

I slid my palm across his skin and gently traced the edges of his bandage. He grabbed my hand away and pressed my fingertips to his lips.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, his voice sure and strong. I turned, resting my chin on his chest and gazed into his green eyes. 

“I love you, too, Dean,” I replied as he pulled me closer to him and kissed me before curling around me, both of us falling asleep tangled up in each other.

I woke the next morning to an empty bed and the sound of my phone ringing. I reached for it and saw Dean’s name on my screen. I panicked for a second, wondering if I'd dreamed the whole thing. I answer it quickly. 

“Hello?”

“How do you work this coffee maker?” He asked. 

“What…? where are you?”

“In your kitchen,” he replied. 

“Why are you calling me?”

“Habit,” he chuckled. I groaned and hung up the phone, tossing it into the pile of blankets next to me and flopped back down into my pillow. I waited for my heartbeat to return to normal before I climbed out of bed. Pulling on some cotton pajama pants and a cami, I shuffled into my kitchen. Dean was standing at the counter, looking defeated in a pair of track pants and a plain white tee. 

I slid in between him and the edge of the counter and set about firing up my fancy coffee machine. Dean slid his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder, watching me carefully.

“There,” I said as the coffee started to brew. I turned around, still looped in his arms and stared up at him.

“Mornin’,” he murmured, kissing the tip of my nose.

“Good morning to you,” I replied. “Did you sleep well?”

“Best sleep I’ve had in ages,” he answered, giving me wink. “So what did you want to do today?” I bit my lip and looked at him with a devilish grin. “Besides that,” he laughed. 

“Honestly,” I sighed. “I want to do everything with you. I want to go out to eat, I wanna cook here, I want to take a walk, stay home and watch TV… I want to do it all.”

“Alright, then,” he smiled, “My girl wants to do it all. We got a week. Where should we start?”

We started with breakfast, a great little brunch spot not far from my place. Afterwards, we walked back at a leisurely pace, me tucked against him, his arm wrapped around my shoulders, my own arm banded around his waist, resting on his hip.

He didn’t let go of me for the rest of the day. We were never not touching one another. It was as if physical contact was a drug and we both were instantly addicted to it. I craved the warmth that radiated off of him when he was near; his calloused fingers laced in between mine; the way he brushed the hair away from my face. 

We hid away for the remainder of the day, neither of us wanting to share the other with anyone else. It was as if we both were trying to make up for lost time. We’d spent months talking and yet there was still so much more to say and new ways of saying it, now that we were finally together. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More smut

The next day we ventured from the condo for a bit longer. Stopping at Starbucks, we each grabbed a coffee and walked along the wharf, down by the water, watching the boats come and go.   
“I always wanted to live near the water,” Dean sighed, breathing in the salty air.  
“It never gets old,” I said, smiling happily. “I like everything about it.”   
“I like everything about you,” he said, tossing me a wink. I laughed, feeling the blush creep up into my cheeks. “God, that was cheesy,” he groaned, wincing a bit.   
“It was,” I agreed with a giggle, “But sweet and…” I paused, chewing my lip, “I feel the same way.” Leaning over, he pressed a quick kiss to my lips, making my heart soar and my knees weak. 

On the way home, we stopped at the local market and stocked up on fixings for a nice dinner. Dean surprised me by being a pretty decent cook for a bachelor.   
“I practically raised Sammy,” he explained as he measured ingredients for the marinade for our steak. “What with my dad out hunting down bounty after bounty. Kid flat out refused to eat mac and cheese after a few weeks, I had to come up with something.” I smiled, watching him move around my kitchen as if he’d always been there. I was starting to wonder if there had ever been a time he’d hadn’t.  
After dinner, we stood side by side at the sink, Dean rinsing the dishes and handing them to me to load into the dishwasher. Every so often, when he’d lean over to hand me a dish, he’d plant a kiss on my cheek, my neck or my temple.   
When we’d finished our chores, I led him to the living room and made him sit on the couch.  
“I have a little present for you,” I said, smiling.  
“You didn’t have to get me anything, sweetheart,” he said, a small pout forming on his lips.  
“It’s nothing much, and it’s more of a gift for me…” I said, starting to ramble. I stopped myself and took a deep breath. “Hang on.” I turned and headed for the hall closet and pulled the package I’d picked up the day before Dean arrived. “Close your eyes, I called,” as I carried it back to the living room. I held it in front of him before whispering, “Ok, open them.” Dean blinked his eyes open and a surprised smile spread over his face.  
“You bought me a guitar?” he exclaimed.  
“Yeah, I thought maybe you could play for me,” I said with a shrug, handing it to him. He cradled it in his arms, his hands running over the warm shiny wood. He shifted it up on his thigh, the fingers on his left hand moving to the frets on the neck, his right hand coming across to strum the strings. He winced.  
“Little out of tune,” he chuckled. I joined him on the other end of the couch, tucking my legs beneath me, watching him intently. “It’s been awhile since I’ve played in front of anyone,” he said, stopping and rubbing the back of his neck.  
“You played for me on Facetime,” I reminded him.  
“Yeah, but you were crying and I felt all helpless…” he explained, shifting uncomfortably. My heart hitched in my chest.  
“Oh, well, you don’t have to if you’re not comfortable,” I said, suddenly feeling like I’d put him on the spot.  
“No, I will play for you,” he said, taking ahold of the guitar again. “I’d love to play for you.” And he did play for me. I watched as he grew more comfortable and confident with each song and I’d join in and sing the parts I knew, enjoying the way our voices mingled together. After a few songs he set the guitar aside and reached for me. He pulled me up off the couch, his arm sliding around my waist, drawing me close to him. We swayed together in front of my huge floor to ceiling windows, the back bay of Boston glittering down below, dancing to the music in our heads.  
“You know,” he murmured, nuzzling cheek with his nose, “I have a surprise for you, too.”  
“Oh really?!” I asked, leaning back so that I could look up at him.  
“Yup,” he nodded, “But you have to wait until the end of the week? Think you can make it?”  
“I could if I had something to … distract me…” I said, my voice low and heavy with innuendo. Without missing a beat, Dean scooped me up, sweeping me right off my feet and carried me into the bedroom.  
He gently set me down on the bed, lowering himself onto me. The room was dark, illuminated only by the bright moonlight pouring in through the windows, casting a soft glow over us. I reached up and ran my fingertips through his hair, dragging my nails over his scalp as his eyelids flutter shut. A quiet moan resonated deep in his chest as he moved his hands, slipping them under my shirt. I arched my back as he continued to bunch the material up, finally slipping it over my head.  
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed. “How did I get this lucky?”  
“Thank Courtney,” I teased, reaching for his shirt, my body already tingling with the anticipation of feeling his bare skin against my own. He pushed himself up off me, pulling his shirt off and discarding it behind him. His next move was for my jeans, popping the button and slowly working them down my legs.  
He gazed down at me, now clad only in my bra and parties and shook his head, as if he couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing.   
“Beautiful,” he said again, before collapsing on top of me, the heavy weight of him pressing me into bed. His lips were on mine instantly, hungry and demanding and I met his desire with my own. I ran my palms up his arms, feeling his strong biceps twitch under my touch.   
Dean’s lips left my own and charted a course down my throat, pausing every few kisses to bite or nibble.  
I moaned something unintelligible as he worked his way lower and lower. He shifted slightly so his leg came in between mine, his rough jeans rubbing up against my panties, the friction driving me wild.   
I reached for his belt and tugged on the buckle.  
“Off,” I commanded and he chuckled as he complied. I grieved the momentary loss of the skin to skin contact, but took the opportunity to wiggle out of my panties. He was back against me quickly, hard and ready.  
“I just wanna make you feel good,” he murmured as he slid inside of me.  
“God, Dean,” I choked out. “You do. I feel like can’t get enough of you. Your voice, your touch, your body… I can’t get enough.”  
“Take all you want,” he whispered, pressing his lips to mine. “I’m yours.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUTTTTT

The next few days went by so much faster than I wanted them to. Dean and I took in a Red Sox game, went on a sightseeing cruise off the coast, drank cold beers and ate hot burgers. We stayed in and explored each other, getting to know one another’s bodies as intimately as possible. I memorized every little spot that made Dean gasp, every movement that made his breath quicken. I watched on as he took the time to learn me by heart, cataloging every inch of me, what I liked, what I loved, handling me with a tenderness I’d never known before. He made me feel safe even though I was falling hard and every night the last thing I registered before falling asleep was the feeling of his large hands splayed out on my stomach as he curled around me, his own breath deep and even as he drifted off.

 

Late in the week, we hit up a bar downtown to check out this cool cover band that played all classic rock songs. After getting a few beers under our belts, we decided to brave the crowd and take in the show a bit closer

“Mister Saturday night special…” I sang at the top of my lungs. “Got a barrel that’s a-blue and gold…”

“Ain’t good for nothin’ but put a man six feet in the hole…” Dean finished, a smile splitting his handsome face. “Damn these guys are good!” He shouted, yelling to be heard over the music.

“I know!” I shouted back. The bar was packed, it was loud, hot and smelled like beer and sweat but I was having a blast. Suddenly the crowd surged forward and Dean grabbed me with an arm around my waist, keeping me pinned to his side. I squealed and held my beer up high to keep it from spilling. He held me while I danced to the Lynard Skynard classic, disinhibited by the beers we’d been drinking all night. I glanced up at him and found he’d stopped watching the band and had his eyes trained on me. 

“What?” I shouted. “Everything OK?” Dean blinked and shook his head a little. He leaned in close so he wouldn’t have to yell. 

“Everything is great,” he said into my ear. “I just can’t remember the last time I had this much fun.” I smiled and turned my head, my lips capturing his. I’d never been one for overt public displays of affection but it seemed that with Dean, I just couldn’t help myself. As the song came to an end, I pulled away and looked up at my handsome date. He stared down at me, his emerald green eyes fixed on mine.

“I love you,” I blurted out, instantly regretting it. We hadn’t said it to each other since our first night together and I had the feeling Dean wasn’t someone to throw those words around lightly. Not that I was either, but in that moment, in that bar, as the band started up a raucous version of “Highway to Hell”, I realized that I had never, ever felt anything like this before. 

Dean blinked at me for a second before a smile began to tug at the corners of his full lips.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he said, tightening his grip on me, pulling me flush against him as he lowered his mouth to mine. It was slow and deep and it completely ignored the fact that we were at a show, in a sea of drunk classic rock fans. My head was spinning when we parted. I felt flushed and warm and wanted nothing more than to be alone with him.

“You wanna go?” He asked, flicking his head towards the exit. I bit my lip and nodded. Dean released me and grabbed my hand, towing me past the bar, where we deposited our empty bottles and out the door, into the night.

Both of us teetering on the edge between buzzed and drunk, we all but sprinted back to my building. We impatiently waited for the elevator in the lobby and when it finally arrived, we boarded it alone, Dean pressing the button to my floor. As the doors slid shut, I sprung into action, launching myself at him. Dean caught me, spinning around, he shoved against elevator wall so hard that it rocked the car roughly side to side. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he ground against me. A wanton moan escaped my lips and it only seemed to spur him on.

“I could take you right here,” he said, his hands sliding up under my shirt. “You’re so fucking sexy.” 

My thoughts were hazy and spinning and all I could think in that moment was that I never felt so wanted or desired in my life. I was just about to give Dean the go ahead when the elevator slowed to a stop, a small “ding” altering us that we’d reached my floor.

We spilled out into the hallway, giggling and kissing, already tugging at each other’s clothes. I fumbled with my keys at the door, distracted by Dean’s lips on my neck, his hands venturing beneath the waistband of my jeans.

My legs were shaking as I finally got the door open and we slipped inside, closing it quickly behind us.

Within seconds, my shirt was off and I was wiggling out of my pants. Dean watched on, his eyes dark with need. Without waiting for my bra or underwear to come off, he lifted me again, pinning me against the front door. I wrapped my legs around him, resuming the position we’d occupied in the elevator.

“Don’t be gentle,” I whispered, surprising myself with my boldness.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his lips pressed against the hollow of my throat. He took me fast and hard and afterwards, both of us collapsed in a sweaty tangle of limbs, barely making it to my bed. 

“I was made to do this,” he panted, placing his hand over his racing heart as if this would somehow slow it. “I was made to make love to you.”

“Mmmhmm,” I moaned in agreement, my limbs still tingling from what he’d just done to me. “You’re very good at it.”

_ “We’re _ very good at it,” Dean corrected with a breathy chuckle. I rolled onto my side to face him, slipping my arm around his neck and hooking my leg up over his hip. I inhaled the scent of him as he pulled the blankets up around us and drifted off into a contented slumber.


	15. Chapter 15

Dean fit into my life here almost seamlessly but each day that passed brought us one day closer to the end of our week together. I tried to push down the panic I felt when I thought about going back to existing on phone calls and texts instead of cuddles and kisses. I held on to his promise that we’d figure it out and that this wouldn't be the last time we were together. 

I woke one morning to a fluttering of kisses on my cheek. I cracked open my eyes to see Dean kneeling by the side of the bed.

“Hey sweetheart,” he murmured, brushing my the hair from my eyes. “I have to run out for a bit, I have a few things I need to take care of.”

“Wait, I will get up and come with you,” I yawned, stretching.

“No, it’s ok, wait here, rest up,” he said, peppering my cheek with a few more kisses. “I will be be back before you know it.” I nodded sleepily and snuggled back down in my bed. When I woke up a little later, I regretted letting him go. My condo was painfully empty without him. I was going crazy after a few minutes. I glanced at the clock and decided to give Tara a call.

“Hey! How are things going? Still sheer perfection?” Tara teased.

“Sheer perfection,” I repeated with a sigh. “He’s just gone out to run some errands.”

“Are we still on for dinner tonight? Your place at 7:00?” She asked. “We are dying to meet this mystery man.”

“7:00 pm it is,” I confirmed. “Just remember to be nice. I know this all seems weird, but once you meet him, you’ll understand.”

A few hours later, after an amazing dinner, Tara cornered me in the kitchen.

“I am sorry I doubted you,” she said, gripping my shoulders tightly. “You were right. He is perfect. He is smart, and funny and easy going. He can talk sports with Gavin. And have you seen his fucking arms?” she gasped. 

“Once or twice,” I giggled.

“Jesus H Macy,” she said, fanning herself. “He is a babe.”

“He’s just great,” I sighed, happily.

“What are you guys going to do?” she asked, cautiously.

“I… I don’t know,” I said, feeling the panic I’d been working on stuffing down all week start to rise up in my throat. “We haven’t talked about it.”

“Why not?” she asked, suddenly alarmed. “You can’t just let him leave!”

“Tara, what am I supposed to do?” I whispered, glancing over her shoulder to make sure that no one could hear us. “His job takes him all over the country. The last girl that asked him to give that up ended up breaking his heart. I want him in my life. I’d prefer it if we could be in the same place together, but I’d take texts and phone calls over nothing at all.” My friend gave me a sad, sympathetic look.

“You ready honey?” Gavin asked, appearing out of nowhere and making us jump. “We should get out of here and leave these love birds alone.” I forced myself to plaster a smile on my lips. 

“Yeah, let me grab my bag and say good-bye to Dean’s arms-- I mean, Dean,” she joked. 

We walked our friends to the door and waved good-night. Dean shut and locked the door behind them and smiled down at me.

“I think I passed,” he said proudly.

“You absolutely did,” I said, placing a hand on his cheek. “They all loved you. Thank you.”

“They all seem real nice,” he nodded. “They kept saying it was great to see you so happy.”

“I am happy,” I said, my throat suddenly feeling tight. “It is great.” I could feel hot tears forming behind my eyes, and quickly turned, heading for the kitchen, muttering an excuse about cleaning up.

I stood at the sink, clutching a damp dish towel, my chest heaving. Tomorrow was our last day together, our last night together. The day after, he’d head back to his life and I’d dive back into mine. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing my emotions to get back in check.

 

“Everything OK sweetheart?” Dean asked from behind me, making me jump. I inhaled a slow, deep breath through my nose.

“It's fine,” I said, turning to face him, forcing a smile and doing my best avoid his eyes. 

“C’mon,” he coaxed, dodging into my line sight. “One day left and you're gonna start lying to me now?”

“You want me to tell you the truth?” I asked, quietly.

“That’s all I've ever wanted,” he said, his green eyes piercing me with a serious gaze. 

“I don't want to go back to the way it was before,” I sniffed. “I can’t go back.” He pursed his lips and looked at me for a long time before speaking. 

“It's a beautiful night,” he said, plucking the dish towel from my hand. “Let's take a walk.”

“Dean,” I sighed, “It's late, the kitchen is a mess…”

“We will clean it later,” he said, lacing his fingers in mine. “Come take a walk with me.”

We didn't talk much as I followed him out to the sidewalk. He gripped my hand and we walked along the waterfront. I was losing the battle against my fear and anguish even though I was fighting to be strong. Dean stayed quiet for a while, too, finally tugging me over to a bench by a railing overlooking the water, pulling me down next to him, he turned to face me.

“You asked me once,” he started, “What my biggest fear was.”

“You said it was that something would happen to you and you'd leave Sam all alone,” I recalled.

“I can't believe you remembered that,” he said, shaking his head. “Anyway, yes. That was my answer. Back then. But something's changed and I might have to change my answer now.”

“What’s changed?” I asked, confused. 

“I have,” he replied. “I've changed. I realized that making Sam my priority was just an excuse to not make myself a priority. These past 6 days with you have been the best days I can remember. And it made me realize something, almost the instant I saw you.”

“What’s that?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“That the thing I fear most is losing you,” he said, giving my hand a squeeze. “I’m ready to give you your surprise now,” he said, releasing my hand and reaching into his back pocket. He handed me a tiny white envelope, no bigger than a business card. I took it from him, my brow furrowed as I slid my finger under the tiny flap. I upended it and gave a little shake and a brass key slid out into my waiting palm. I looked up at Dean, my features betraying my confusion.

“I don’t understand,” I said, struggling to find meaning behind this strange gift.

“It’s key to my new apartment,” he said, carefully. “So you can come and go as you please.”

“Your new…?” I said, still feeling as if I was two steps behind.

“Well, our new apartment, Sam’s and mine,” he said, with a smile. He pivoted, turning on the bench and pointing off down the road. “It’s a small, two bedroom, right above The Black Rose Pub. Nothing fancy, but we couldn’t beat the location and it's proximity to The Wharf,” he said, turning back and giving me a wink. I glanced over in the direction he was pointing and could see the Black Rose from where we sat and I noticed for the first time that there were several floors of apartments above the bar. The building was only a few blocks away from my own.

“Dean…” I squeaked, my mouth suddenly dry. “You’re moving here? When… when did you do all this?”

“Sam came with me,” he admitted. “Damn kid wouldn’t let me drive out here by myself. We had a lot of time to talk. Fifteen hours as a matter of fact. He said if this is what I really wanted, I should go for it. And that’d he would be willing to put down roots here, maybe look into going back to school, he says Boston’s got some of the best law schools in the country. I snuck out this morning, met Sam and the landlord, signed the lease, got the keys…” He stopped, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, sweetheart, I know we didn’t exactly talk about this but we don’t lie to each other. If this isn’t what you want--”

He was cut short as I launched myself from my seat on the bench, flinging my arms around his neck and climbing into his lap. I gripped his handsome face between my palms, kissing his lips, nose, eyes, cheeks and chin. He was mine and he was staying.

I finally released him, rocking back and looking at him, his green eyes dancing with delight. 

“Can we go see it?” I asked, my cheeks starting to hurt from smiling.

“Of course,” he said, gripping my hips and lifting me from his lap, setting my down on the sidewalk. “Sammy is probably up there…”

“Come on, then,” I said, tugging him up. We crossed the street and went up a few blocks, past the entrance to the bar and up a few flights of stairs. Using my new key, Dean let us in. 

“The place came furnished…” Dean was saying as he pushed open the door. We walked in, my eyes darting everywhere, unable to believe this was my new boyfriend's new apartment. Sam appeared from back hall, tall and lean, long shaggy hair falling over his face. His features lit up in a smile as he spotted Dean and I.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, crossing the room towards us in two long strides. “Our first guest!”

“Y/N, meet Sam,” Dean gestured, “Sammy, meet Y/N.” He held out his hand but I reached for him, pulling him into a hug which he readily returned.

“It’s so nice to finally meet the girl who has been making this cranky jerk so happy,” Sam said. I let Sam go and stepped back, my mind still reeling, struggling to comprehend that this was real.

“So Sam’s going back to school?” I asked, turning to Dean.

“That’s the plan,” he nodded, smiling proudly at his brother.

“And what about you?” I asked. “What are you going to do?”

“The thing I was born to do,” he replied as if it were obvious.

“And what’s that?” I inquired.

“Be with you,” he said, reaching for me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me against him. He dipped his head and pressed his warm, soft lips to mine. 

“Get a room,” Sam groaned. “Your’s is the smaller one, on the left…” he called, turning and heading back down the hall.

“S’ok,” Dean said, pulling away and pressing his forehead to mine. “I don’t plan on being in there too much.”

“I like that plan,” I said, capturing his lips again. “So...wanna show me that room?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please stay tuned for the epilogue, I am still deciding how to end this <3


	16. Chapter 16: Not the Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got such an amazing response to this story, I decided to postpone the epilogue for a chapter. Love you all!

I peeled at the label on my beer bottle and glanced towards the entrance of the Black Rose and then down to my watch.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” Sam teased, I blinked and turned back to him, focusing my attention back to the notebook on the high top bar table. We had been meeting up a few times a week since he started law school and I loved our study sessions.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m here. Where were we?” I said, sipping my beer and trying to read his notes upside down, a difficult task given Sam’s chicken scratch.

“Hawkins vs. McGee,” Sam reminded me.

“Oh, one of my favorites,” I smiled, “The Hairy Hand case. Tell me what you know,” I said. Sam took a deep breath and launched into a summary of the historic property case. I was so involved in helping Sam study that I almost fell off my bar stool when a strong arm slid around my shoulders. I let out a small yelp as I fought to stay upright.

“Easy there,” Dean laughed, settling me down. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” Smiling, I twisted on my bar stool and tilted my head up to meet his lips. He sighed quietly into the kiss, as if the kiss was the one thing he’d been dreaming about all day. “Hi baby girl,” he murmured.

“Hello,” I replied, smiling happily. “I missed you.”

“Missed you, too,” he replied, settling in on the bar stool next to me.

“I missed you, too,” Sam replied, smiling and batting his eyelashes at Dean. I gave him a sharp kick under the table but he laughed it off. “How was work?”

“Never a dull moment,” he said, shaking his head. I smiled proudly as he recounted his meeting with his newest client. Since he’d officially moved to Boston six months ago, Dean had studied and passed the Massachusetts Private Investigator exam and had begun leasing a small office on Milk Street downtown. In fact, my firm had hired him on to investigate a few real estate deals and had been more than satisfied with his work.

Sam tucked his study materials away and we ordered some greasy, delicious pub food and another round of beers before adjourning to the pool tables.

After just a few games, Sam had to call it a night, having an early class the next day. Sam headed upstairs to their apartment while Dean and I pulled on our coats. He slid his arm around me and joined me for the walk back to my condo.

In the six months that The Winchesters had become a part of my reality, I’d seen Dean almost every day. Although I loved crashing at his and Sam’s place, we did spend most of our time at mine. We strolled down by the waterfront, oblivious to the cold wind that whipped around us. I was snuggled up tight against him, telling him about my study session with Sam.

“He’s so smart,” I told him. “He’s going to be an amazing lawyer.”

“Of course he is,” Dean said, not bothering to hide the pride in his voice. “Just like you.” I rolled my eyes and gave him playful shove with my shoulder.

“You’re just trying to butter me up so you can get lucky when we get home,” I teased.

“Sweetheart,” he said, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and lowering his mouth to my ear. “I don’t even have to try to get you butter up…” The combination of his deep voice and hot breath on my ear sent a thrill straight to my core. I shivered. “See?” he murmured, his lips brushing the soft skin just behind my jaw. “Butter up and ready to go.”

“Come on,” I said, urging him forward, the short walk from his place to mine suddenly feeling like a marathon distance.

Much later that night, I awoke to the sound of my phone dinging. Groggily, I sat up, looking for the source of the sound. I blinked a few times, trying to get my bearings. I realized I was in bed alone and that my phone was lying on Dean’s empty pillow. Confused I reached for it, scanning the screen to see that I had three new texts, all from Dean.

**\--Wake up gorgeous**

**\--Open those pretty eyes**

**\--C’mon sweetheart**

“Dean?” I called out to the darkness. Instead of him answering me, my phone chimed again with a new text.

**\--I’m in the living room, but I want you to stay right there for a second.**

“What is going on?” I shouted, wondering if this was all a weird dream.

**\--Just humor me.**

_-Fine_ . I typed back.   _What is going on?_

**\--I love you so much. You are everything I never knew I always wanted.**

_-I love you, too. You’re my everything. Can I come out there yet?_

**\--Not just yet.**

**\--Everyday that I’m with you, I’m amazed that what we have grew out of a few simple text messages.**

**\--Texts just like these.**

I watched as another ellipsis bubble popped up and stayed, signaling that whatever he as typing, it was going to be a long message. My anticipation grew with each passing second.

 **\--We promised to always tell each other the truth. The truth is that I want to spend the rest** **of my life with you, I want you to be my wife. I want us to have a family and be together each and every day. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my entire life. I wanted to tell you this way first, because this is how we started and every important truth I’ve shared has been done like this. It just seems fitting.**

My vision began to swim with unshed tears and I struggled to blink them away, my throat aching with the effort it took to hold them in. I watched the ellipsis bubble re-appear briefly before the next message was sent.

**\--You can come in the living room now.**

I let out a sob and tossing my phone aside, I leapt from the bed, rushing towards the living room. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I pushed open the bedroom door and saw Dean, kneeling just on the other side, holding up a black velvet ring box.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, smiling up at me, his green eyes dancing. I dropped to my knees in front of him, grabbing his face in my hands and planting a sloppy kiss onto his sweet lips.

“Yes,” I choked out, wrapping my arms around his neck and all but tackling him to the carpet. Laughing, he steadied us, his strong arm snaking around me and pulling my body flush against his.

“Don’t you want to see your ring?” he chucked in my ear. Sniffling, I pulled away, nodding, not fully trusting my voice to speak. Releasing me, he opened the small ring box and I gasped, my hands flying to mouth. My wide eyes moved from the stunning diamond nestled in the black velvet to his eyes and I honestly couldn’t tell which was sparkling more brightly.

“Dean!” I gasped. “It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

“I wanted to propose to you the day I got here,” he admitted, pulling the ring from the box and holding it out for me. “But I wanted to get you a ring that was as perfect as you are. Today’s client made affording this a reality.” I held out my hand as he gently slide the ring onto my finger.

“I love it,” I gushed, holding it up to admire. “I’m really going to be Mrs. Dean Winchester?”

“You said yes,” he laughed. I launched myself forward with as much force as I could muster, succeeding in knocking Dean over, flat on his back on my carpet.

“I love you,” I said, peppering his face with kisses, the scruff from his beard scratching my lips and driving me wild. I let out a throating moan and Dean rolled with ease, taking me with him and pinning me beneath him. “Take me back to bed please,” I begged.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, pushing himself up and tugging me along after him, scooping me up in his arms, returning me to the bedroom and making promises with his lips, body and soul that I knew he would spend the rest of his life keeping.


End file.
